


Waiting for the Moon

by Kerichi



Series: Tonks and Remus Tales [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deals with Snape, Drama with werewolves, Dual POV, F/M, Heart-to-hearts with hags, Romance, Wizard scouts and Witch guides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 112,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerichi/pseuds/Kerichi
Summary: Giant spiders, malevolent bats, wizard scouts...werewolves. Tonks finds life in Hogsmeade far from simple, while Remus discovers having a partner in touch with her inner wolf complicates his mission and his heart.





	1. Separated and Waiting

 

Tonks felt like a fifth-year hoarding pictures of her boyfriend in her desk, but she didn't want her colleagues to know how badly she missed her lover. If word got round that she stared at a strip of wizard photobooth pictures every day before getting to work, she'd never hear the end of it. Mooning over Remus was exactly what she was doing, yet she didn't want to see herself portrayed that way in an interoffice cartoon. Her hair was already causing a stir. Aurors she’d barely exchanged greetings with before felt free to ask if the hairstyle was for an undercover mission, for surveillance, or due to a lost bet.

The attention became irritating at times. No one asked Harriet—the brown nose called The Spy—if her mousey locks were the result of a Magical Bug. Tonks's main reaction, however, was a smile.

She couldn't mourn Sirius and Emmeline openly. Neither could she express concern over Remus's "relocation" to Salford. Too many questions would be raised. Her hair was the outward manifestation of an inward sadness, and when her dull hair made people uncomfortable, she smiled.

Her friends and family were the exceptions. She didn't feel any satisfaction over worrying them. Although her parents were aware that it was a combination of factors affecting her Metamorphosing, no one else did. The others thought she was depressed over Remus. From her best mate Julia to Cousin Rita, the unexpressed-yet-clear belief was that he had moved to put emotional and physical distance between them.

They thought she was in denial about it.

What could she say? No one accused her outright. It showed in an exchange of looks between Julia and her husband Tom when Tonks answered that no, Remus didn't owl. The thought was in Rita's eyes at a family barbeque, when her cousin asked when she was going to see Remus—and was told that she didn't know.

Tonks couldn't say that Remus was on a mission, that they had communication mirrors and talked every night. She could only state that they were still together.

Even her Auror partner believed she was holding onto a failing romance. Jerry Connelly had listened to her moan that she was out of shape without Remus to run with and volunteered to go running with her. Earnestly, he'd said that he'd always wanted to learn a Muggle sport, but Tonks knew better. He was an overgrown wizard scout, doing a good deed daily.

She took Jerry up on his offer, and by the second week of July was feeling fit, even though the continued separation from Remus was getting her down. He was new to the pack. He had to abide by their rules, and wait to be allowed leave to visit her, or granted permission for her to visit him.

Tonks kept up her spirits when they talked, but at other times felt so low it was hard to remember to eat properly. For someone who loved food, craved chocolate, and sneered over romance heroines that pined away, the situation was frustrating.

Her temper boiled over when she entered her cubicle on a Wednesday and found an Interdepartmental Memo on her desk. She snatched up the violet-coloured airplane and hurled it toward the mini dartboard on a sidewall. The nose hit dead centre before the paper plane spiralled down to land on the carpet.

Feeling slightly more cheerful, Tonks bent down to pick up the memo. When she read the contents, she was tempted to use an  _Incendio_ to burn the paper to ash.

**In order to properly secure the village before student arrival, the transfer date has been adjusted to July twelfth. Make arrangements accordingly.**

**Dawlish.**

Two days! She had two days to clear her caseload and pack...and for what reason? Was there an upcoming article in the  _Daily Prophet_ Scrimgeour wanted to look extra ministerial in? Impress the public with how proactive the Ministry was when it came to public safety?

She crumpled the paper into a ball and stalked out of the cubicle to Jerry's equally miniscule office. He wasn't in yet, and there was no violet airplane on his desk. That meant funding for a fifth Auror to be assigned to Hogsmeade had not yet been authorised. Bollocks. She wouldn't even have a friend to play darts or go running with.

Back in her cubicle, another Interdepartmental Memo waited on the desk beside the crumpled paper. It could have been her imagination, but the wings seemed to quiver in fear. "You should be afraid," she muttered darkly. "If you bring bad news, I'm going to rip you to shreds—slowly."

The memo the airplane unfolded to reveal made her grin. Arthur Weasley had requested her assistance! She dropped the paper and headed back down the narrow, winding corridor toward the double doors of the Auror Offices. Roger the caseload. Jerry could get a rookie to fill in as temporary partner. Arthur was one of the dearest, kindest men on the planet, and she looked forward to helping him confiscate whatever Muggle artefact some misguided wizard or witch had enchanted.

 

"Wotcher, Mr. Weasley!" she said, entering the office cluttered with former evidence of misused artefacts. He was alone, sipping a cup of coffee, scanning a file.

"Wotcher—I mean—good morning, Tonks!"

She laughed at his sheepish look. "I don't own the expression. You can say 'wotcher' if you like."

"No, no, the children tease me something awful if I use it." He smiled boyishly. "I do believe they think the expression too c—colourful." Blue eyes fixed on her hair while he stumbled over the last word.

"At least something about me has stayed colourful," said Tonks, trying to put him at ease. "I doubt Mum is proud that it's my language, though."

Arthur nodded solemnly with a twinkle in his eye. "Yes, mothers tend to be sticklers about such matters."

"Bet Molly's heard loads of colourful language from the twins."

"She assured them in no uncertain terms that not  _all_ of Merlin's body parts were suitable for swearing by." He gave a short burst of laughter. "Especially not in Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour while sitting next to Mrs. Fudge!" He lifted the file in his hand. "Now then, we have several interesting cases on my last day." He saw her look of surprise and asked, "Hadn't you heard? I've been promoted."

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you. Molly and the children are quite excited."

Tonks enjoyed working with Arthur. Always cheerful, he listened patiently to a sleepy-eyed mediwitch explain that she worked the night shift and only gave her a warning for illegally bespelling a doormat to shock unwanted callers.

"That was nice of you," Tonks said when they were leaving.

Her temporary boss was staring down at the doormat in his hands. "I wonder if the boys would be interested in making a legal version of this mat for sale in their shop," he said musingly. "I could invite them to the office and place this outside the door, to give them a first-hand experience of its effect." He glanced up and reddened. "It was just an idea."

"A fabulous prank, too. Let me know what happens."

His resemblance to the twins when he smiled mischievously was remarkable. "I will."

 

After lunch, they visited the Mungo Bonham Senior Centre, located conveniently near St. Mungo's hospital. Inside, they were directed to the activities room. The recreation director, Mr. Nigel Taylor, greeted them calmly. "It's about the disco ball, isn't it?" He pointed to the mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling.

Arthur nodded sombrely. "It is illegal to use the ball to cast a Compulsion Charm. Especially one impervious to counter-spells. No senior should be forced to dance. What if someone had broken their hip?" His jaw tightened. "We're here to take you and the...evidence...into custody."

"But you haven't seen it work," the director said smoothly.

The lights dimmed. Above, a spotlight turned on. The disco ball began to spin.

" _Incarcerous!_ " Tonks yelled.

Taylor stood bound with cords, a smirk on his mild-mannered face. "I hope you feel like dancing. When I saw a young Auror strolling up the walk, I switched the musical selection. To dance the hustle, beginners aren't limited to disco. The only requirement is a song with the appropriate beats per minute."

The distinctive, opening sounds of the Duran Duran song  _Rio_ spilled into the room. Tonks's mouth fell open. She fought the impulse to move.

Arthur asked, "Will the Compulsion Charm fade at the end of the song?"

"Yes," said Taylor.

"Then  _Silencio!_ " Arthur turned to Tonks after casting the spell. "I was quite enthralled with Muggle music and dancing in my youth. I even persuaded Molly to visit a discothèque." He tugged her into place beside him. "Let me know if you need instruction."

She couldn't hold out against the Charm any longer. "Fine. We'll boogie, and then we'll arrest him." Dazzling beams of light flashed over the room. As if someone had yelled, “ _Do the Hustle,”_ they began to dance.

Tonks didn't need to think about the steps or count  _and one, two, three_. Instinctively, she fell into the rhythm of beats and half-beats, alternating two forward and two backward steps.

It was surprising that Arthur lead her into a fast-moving pattern with turns. She wondered if he was influenced by the jazzy swing to the verses, or the churning rhythm section and fluid bass lines. The saxophone solo loosened up her inhibitions, so when Arthur said over the music, "Disco points?" she started laughing and stopped moving her feet.

Moving her hips left to right, she brought her right arm straight up, and on the half-beat brought it down while crossing her left arm over at the elbow. It was hilarious to see Arthur repeat the motion with her. They faced each other, rolling their arms around each other, moving their hips to the beat.

At the end of the song, Arthur clicked his heels together. Tonks watched him flap his arms like a bird and resisted the compulsion with all her might, sighing with relief when the last note faded, breaking the spell.

She saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and yelled, " _Stupefy!"_

Arthur hurried over to the man who had been trying to escape. A camera dangled from stunned fingers. He pointed his wand at the director.

A counter-charm enabled Taylor to say, "I was going to use the photographs to persuade you to drop the charges."

Tonks winced. Photographs? Bloody hell!

Arthur flushed, but stood dignified. He said without any hesitation. "You miscalculated, and these photographs are now evidence."

 

Two hours later, after turning Taylor and his accomplice over to magical law enforcement, giving their statements and filling out the requisite paperwork, Tonks waited until she and her boss left the department to say, "Couldn't we have ruined the film somehow? You know that evidence will be leaked to every office in the Ministry." She groaned. "If I become an article in  _The_   _Quibbler,_ I vow by Helga Hufflepuff—"

"Don't assume the worst," said Arthur.

"Charlie used to say that."

"Good to know he listened to his father."

"Right before I got Detention." Tonks smiled a little at the chagrin on Arthur's face.

He said, "You could always come to dinner. We could—erm—explain what happened to Molly. Give her a chuckle." His expression was hopeful.

She was a sucker for a friend in need. "Sure. What time?"

At seven o'clock, Tonks found herself in the Weasley kitchen, warily eyeing the chef knife in Molly's hand while Arthur related what had happened earlier. Before more than "Hmmm," was given in reaction, a vision in white glided into the room.

" _Bonjour!_ " cried the Frenchwoman Tonks recognised as Fleur Delacour. Graceful, pale fingers clasped together. "Eet ees  _tres bon_  to 'ave a visitor! I 'ave been so lonely while Bill ees at work, wiz no one to talk to."

"What about me and Hermione?" Ginny Weasley entered the room with a sour look on her face. "What are we, attic ghouls?" She ignored Fleur's breathless assurance that of course Bill's dear “leetle sister” was “vairy important” to say, "Tonks, come up and see the Weird Sisters tee I found at a second-hand shop. I can't decide if it's a black-market copy or the real thing."

Tonks nodded briskly. "I'd better have a look."

"Ow exciting! I shall come too!" Fleur tossed back her hair in a gesture that made Mr. Weasley blink and Mrs. Weasley narrow her eyes.

"Oh, but I need your," Molly swallowed hard and seemed to force out, "help, dear. Tell me how your mother makes pasta sauce." Her eyes met Tonks's. "Mrs. Delacour must be a marvellous cook, to hear Fleur sing her praises at  _every given opportunity."_

"I'm sure," said Tonks, making her escape.

On the stairs, Ginny paused on the first-floor landing to turn and hug her friend. "I lied about the t-shirt. I just wanted to rescue you from Phlegm and say that I was so sorry to hear about Sirius." The girl's concerned look flickered over mousey hair. "You didn't  _choose_ that colour, did you?"

Tonks's throat felt tight. She tried to smile, but it was a lopsided effort. "No, but it matches the way I feel." Her smile became more natural. "Phlegm, huh?"

"Yeah." Brown eyes flashed. "Always prancing around, turning on the charm for every male, especially my idiot oldest brother, who asked her to marry him." Ginny's lips twisted. "Sometimes, I want to spit in her face."

"Wait until you're feeling lurgy." Tonks grinned at the blank look she received. "That way you'll have phlegm for Phlegm."

"Fight Phlegm with phlegm? I like it!" Ginny hugged Tonks again. "I like you."

Tonks bumped Ginny's shoulder with her own as they continued up the stairs. "I like you, too, and now our owls won't have far to fly. I'm being transferred to Hogsmeade."

Ginny's face lit up. " _Yes!_ "

 

Two days later, Tonks glanced around a room above the Three Broomsticks and felt her spirits plummet. "No," she said in response to her new landlady's question. "I'm afraid it won't do." Her face felt hot. "I need a bigger bed, and there's not enough space in here to transfigure the single."

Rosmerta shrugged. "Sorry. I use my da's old room for pub storage, and mine's the only other—wait a minute." She snapped her fingers. "There's a room in the attic. It's big enough for a double bed, and the window at the back of the pub would give you your own private entrance," she said with a wink.

Remus could visit without alerting half the village. Tonks smiled. "I'll take it."

 

 

 

It was the first clear morning after days of rain. Remus stood at the window, looking out across rows of red brick terraces, lips curving at the absurdity of a run-down council estate with the twee name of Chimney Fields. Although not bleak as those in concrete high rises, the flat he currently inhabited was a far cry from the comfort of the home he'd shared with Nymphadora.

The rustling of wings broke the silence. Remus's gaze dropped to the owl shifting in its cage. He reached through the bars to stroke tawny feathers. "We've something in common, Strix," he said. "Both of us long to leave the confines of this place."

There was a thud against the windowpane. A small owl perched on the sill, blinking as though dizzy. Remus chuckled as he raised the window. "Greetings, Thialfi."

The little owl used communally by the pack had never been given a personal name. In a moment of whimsy, Remus had named the owl for the messenger of the Norse gods. It may have been a coincidence, but the fluffy-feathered tiny raptor had seemed to preen.

Thialfi twittered for attention. From his cage Strix hissed, his large eyes squinting aggressively. Remus gave him an owl treat before feeding one to their visitor. "Don't be jealous," he murmured, retrieving the message. "Using your genus as a name was appropriate, but a manly fellow like Thialfi would be embarrassed to be called Athene." He glanced at the cage. Strix's plumage was no longer pulled in tightly to his body. Instead, he was putting on a show of indifference, combing his head with his claws.

Remus smiled to see Thialfi bobbing and weaving his head in order to better watch the larger owl. "Wait here while I see if Will has a return message," he said, "and for your own sake, don't stick your beak into the cage."

On the way downstairs, he reflected that it was a sad state of affairs when a man talked more to owls than to human beings. When he reached the lounge that doubled as his flatmate's bedroom, he was reminded  _why_ that was the case.

William Hughes wasn't just a werewolf. He was a teenager.

The nineteen-year-old lay sprawled face down upon a black futon, fully dressed and snoring. The floor beside the bed was littered with lager bottles and an open bag of cheese and onion crisps spilling onto the floor.

Remus’s jaw tightened as he bent to pick up the bag and twist it closed. Will didn't have the money to be wasting food. Neither of them did. He set the crisps down, reaching out to shake the boy's shoulder. "Wake up. An owl arrived for you. He's waiting to see if you have a reply."

"Let the bloody bird wait," was the muffled reply. "I'm tired."

"It's almost noon, and if the message is from Skoll, I doubt he'll appreciate your attitude."

The mention of Greyback's second-in-command made Will roll over and sit up. He dragged a hand over shaggy blond hair, squinting much like his owl. "Give me the message."

Remus stood unmoving.

Will heaved a long, aggrieved sigh. "Gods, you're worse than my mum. Fine. I'll be polite. Would you  _please_ give me the message, if it's not too much trouble,  _Professor?"_

Remus silently handed over the roll of parchment before walking the few metres into the miniscule kitchen. He put on the kettle and opened the lid on the tea tin. There was only enough for a few cups. He would add tea to the list of items needed at the market. After clearing the mess his flatmate had created while making a late-night snack, he took out what remained of the bread and checked the coolant cabinet. The roast beef was gone. So was the ham. Only four eggs remained.

Eggy Soldiers it would be.

While he made three-minute eggs and grilled bread to make rectangular "soldiers" to dunk into the yolks, the clanging of pipes announced that Will had gone upstairs to take a shower.

"I smell food." Will stood in the doorway, the ends of wet hair dripping onto his shirt.

Had hunger caused the boy to take a three-minute shower? Remus smiled as he handed over a mug of tea and a bowl containing two soft boiled eggs and slices of toast. "Such as it is."

"Merlin, I haven't had Eggy Soldiers in years. Mum was always nervous that I'd splatter the yolk all over myself and her tablecloth." The tone was wistful.

Remus knew the feeling. Since experience had taught that sympathy would not be appreciated, he merely placed a teaspoon into his own bowl and followed Will into the lounge. The flat was the sort that combined the dining and living area. Whoever decorated the flat had decided that a second black futon sofa and side table made better use of the space than a table and chairs.

Once Remus set down his bowl and mug, Will nodded toward the unmade bed. "Be a mate and use a spell on that." He watched the mattress fold back into a sofa with a look of envy. "If wizards weren't so damned prejudiced, I could've gone to school and learned to do that myself." Pale green eyes flashed with resentment. "Too bad I wasn't lucky like you, Professor."

It didn't take much to set the volatile youth off on a rant. Remus preferred a meal without indigestion. "Yes, it is unfortunate." He took a seat and reached for the bowl. The eggs lay on their sides, stirring a memory. "Have you read  _Gulliver's Travels?_ "

Across the room, Will was smashing in the top of an egg. "Was it required reading for Muggle Studies? Sounds vaguely familiar." He peeled away eggshell and attacked the egg white with his spoon.

Remus held up an egg. "In Mr. Swift's book, the isle of Lilliput warred against its neighbour over the  _correct_ way to break into a boiled egg."

Will snorted. "Big end, of course."

"The Blefuscudians agreed. The Lilliputians, however, by royal edict, were required to break their eggs at the pointed, little end."

"If they fought over something so stupid, I hope they killed each other off." Will plunged his "soldier" into the yolk and got egg on his shirt. He swore and then laughed.

Remus said, "No, but both sides were so closed-minded and selfish; each suffered losses over something that should have never been an issue."

"Right. Who gives a toss what end of the egg you break?"

Will didn't seem to grasp the deeper political and societal meaning. Remus felt the way he had in class when a bright student failed to comprehend a lesson—disappointed and yet hopeful that upon further reflection, he or she would.

By the time Remus was on his second egg, Will had devoured his food and was finishing off the bag of crisps. "Bit stale," he said around a mouthful.

"Next time close the bag properly."

"Yes, Dad." Will smirked. "Don't you want to know what the message was about?"

Remus sipped his tea. "If you'd like to share."

"They finally gave you permission to visit your mate." Will's grin was impudent. "Got the weekend to get a leg over."

In the same manner he'd treated students who tried to get a rise with a cheeky comment, Remus pretended the words had never been spoken. "When may I leave?"

"Midnight. Be back by two o'clock Sunday, though. There's a meeting."

Remus nodded. He would need to tell Dumbledore. A flick of his wand sent dirty dishes floating toward the kitchen. Only twelve hours until he was free to go to Nymphadora. He shifted restively, determined to give Strix another treat when he went upstairs.

 

At the stroke of midnight, Remus Apparated to a local wizard-run pub on the Floo Network and Flooed to The Hog's Head tavern. Will had sniggered over his hooded cloak, but it was a necessary precaution. The clientele of Hogsmeade's shadiest establishment would not hesitate to sell information about their fellow patrons if the opportunity arose.

He waited at a table in the back corner, using an Aversion Charm to keep others from taking the nearby tables. At half-past twelve, a man shrouded in a black cloak entered and walked toward the bar. A few moments later, the looming figure approached the back table with a bottle of Firewhisky in hand.

" _Tempus fugit,"_ said Remus.

" _Non autem memoria,"_ said Dumbledore, taking a seat and placing two glasses on the scratched wooden tabletop. He poured them both a shot. "Time flies, but not memory. How true that is."

Remus picked up the glass, but did not drink. "Are these...?"

"Brought with me from the castle," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice filled with amusement. “I would have purchased bottled ale otherwise, I assure you."

"Thank you." The Firewhisky burned a path down Remus's throat. He thought of all the times Sirius had thrown back whisky as though it were Butterbeer and shook his head slightly.

"You have something to tell me?" Dumbledore asked in a hushed tone.

Beneath the concealing folds of his hood, Remus glanced around before replying, "There will be a meeting Sunday."

"Excellent. Have Nymphadora owl me afterwards with any information of note."

It was strange how he disliked any other man calling his lover by her first name.  _Territorial animal, aren't you?_ Remus nodded his agreement to both statements.

"About Nymphadora..." Dumbledore refilled his glass. "She was at The Burrow when I delivered Harry there a short while ago. Although an Order meeting at the weekend was planned in the hope that you would be permitted to attend, she refused Molly's offer to return for dinner and would not meet my eyes when she left."

Without visual cues, there was only voice inflection to go by. Dumbledore sounded gravely concerned. Remus said, "I'm on my way to see her. I'll ask what was wrong." He rose to his feet.

Dumbledore poured himself another round of Firewhisky. "Good. Good."

 

The lights of the Three Broomsticks were visible from the end of the street, although Privacy Charms muted the noise. Remus kept to the shadows as he circled around to the back of the pub. He had never been in the attic, so he couldn't Apparate there yet.

He would have to levitate.

It wasn't the  _worst_ sensation in the world. There were others far more unpleasant. Remus was willing to experience slight queasiness and dizziness to join his love. He only wished his conjuring was to the level James's had been. Then he could conjure a ladder and climb up to the opened window.

Instead, he floated, jerkily at times, with a couple of drops that made his stomach lurch. The only thing he was more grateful to see than the inside of the attic was Nymphadora.

She stopped pacing the floor to run into his arms. He held her tightly as possible. He had missed this the most during their time apart—the physical closeness that completed their emotional bond. He closed his eyes, whispering her name as he drew in the scent of her skin and the soft warmth of her body. Long moments passed. Eventually, his hold loosened. Remus brushed a kiss across her hair.

The face Nymphadora lifted was achingly vulnerable. This was what her determined cheerfulness and humour had masked during their nightly conversations. It was sadness that hollowed her cheeks and darkened midnight blue eyes to pools of black.

He ran his fingers through mousey hair worn like a badge of mourning. Everyone knew when she was feeling low. His physical change was strands of grey that made him seem older. Only Nymphadora knew when he was down. Others saw him as a down-and-out werewolf, or a man who had left his lover at the worst time.

Remus trailed his fingers down the sides of his love's face, cupping her cheeks with his palms as he bent to rub her lips softly with his. He kissed her lightly, then lingeringly, but was hesitant to deepen the embrace. He was afraid of moving too quickly.

Her mouth moved persuasively against his.

He groaned when the tip of her tongue traced the seam of his lips. "Nymphadora..." When his mouth parted, her tongue slipped inside with a boldness any Gryffindor would envy. It took a few minutes to remember what he had intended to say. "I want to hold you, not rush you into—"

"I want you to hold me without clothes on," she said, feathering kisses across his jaw line. She reached up on tiptoes, playfully nipping his earlobe. "If that makes the first time rushed, we can try for slow the second time." Her laugh was low and sexy. "Besides," she said, drawing away to gesture to her shirt. "I feel so bad about stealing your tee. I have to give it back this instant."

Her smile was irresistible as ever. Remus felt a smile spread across his face and hoped it wasn't too wolfish. "Please do."

 

Later, when the early morning breeze wafted in from the opened window, cooling heated skin, he looked at the woman sharing his pillow and said, "I have to ask. Why did you turn down Molly's invitation and avoid Dumbledore's gaze?"

Nymphadora scooted closer until she stared directly into his eyes. "I can't be in a room with you and pretend we're just friends anymore. I want to sit beside you, hold your hand, and not worry that  _impressionable children_ will figure out that we're lovers."

He kissed her tenderly. "I want the same things."

"And I didn't look at Dumbledore because I didn't want him mucking about in my head."

Remus stiffened. "What?"

Her tone was carefully expressionless, but Nymphadora's eyes showed her distress. "I know what it feels like when someone's trying to use Legilimency against me. If Dumbledore wants information, he can ask me."

"He means well," Remus said automatically, before he suppressed his peacemaker's instinct and spoke from the heart, "but he was wrong, and if anyone—Dumbledore included—tries that again, I hope you'll shut them out in a way that ensures he or she never will again."

She kissed him soundly. "I love it when you get a growl in your voice."

"I meant it."

"That's what made it sexy." Nymphadora rolled forward, pressing him back against the mattress.

Remus said between kisses, "If you're trying to make up for all the kisses we've missed out on, we won't sleep until the sunrise."

She smiled bewitchingly and bent to kiss him again.

 


	2. The Waiting Hours

 

She awoke with a start.  _What time is it? How many hours have I lost?_  Tonks flung out an arm and almost knocked the clock off the trunk serving as a bedside table. It was eight AM. Only five hours wasted in sleep. She closed her eyes in relief.

"What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" Remus's voice was husky. His hand rubbed her back in slow sweeps.

Tonks shifted to face him. "I was afraid I'd slept the day away."

The corners of his mouth turned up. "I would never have let that happen."

Male confidence rang in his tone. It was incredibly sexy. She arched an eyebrow. "Really? What if I was so exhausted that I just couldn't open my eyes?" Her eyelashes fluttered closed as she feigned sleep.

He gave a huff of amusement by her ear that made Tonks shiver in anticipation. "Nymphadora," he murmured, while his fingertips traced her features. "It's time to wake up." His lips brushed across her cheek and grazed her lips.

It was a tough decision whether to snog him senseless or discover what he would do to wake her. In the end, her eyes remained tightly shut, although her mouth parted in invitation.

Remus chuckled and kissed his way down her throat. When he licked and then gently sucked, it took all her willpower not to moan. If he thought she would give up her pretence to tell him not to give her a love bite, he was mistaken. Auror robes would hide the mark.

He settled on top of her. It was hard to keep her hips from lifting in response. How far would he go? She couldn't wait to find out.

_Knock! Knock!_

"Who's there?" Remus whispered laughingly, rolling to the side.

Tonks sat up. "Somebody who wants a hex." She glared across the attic. Reluctantly getting out of bed, she bent to scoop denims and a tee off the floor and pull them on.

She cracked open the door. "Yeah?"

"Good morning!" Bartholomew Savage displayed teeth so pearly; Tonks was tempted to warn him that too many whitening spells would give him a permanently fluorescent smile. It could happen. She'd seen a bloke whose teeth glowed in the dark, and the look was eerie, not attractive.

Her lips twisted down. "It was great until you pounded on my door. What do you want?"

His eyes flickered over her MegaMaggot tee. "Dawlish made up the patrol schedule. You've been put down for the morning and afternoon perimeter check." Gaze riveted to the logo on her chest, he said, "I have a Firebolt if you need it."

"I've got my own broomstick," she said, repressing envy that his broomstick was sleek and fast while hers was serviceable Comet 260.

His foot pushed the door open wider. "I'd be willing to share more than my racing broom." Savage glanced over her shoulder, as if trying to gauge how big the attic bedroom was.

Tonks blinked in surprise. " _What?_ "

The blinding smile flashed again. "I know. My last girlfriend was a Siren's Secrets model, but we're both unattached, and our time in this village is going to pass slowly with nothing to do, if you take my meaning."

"Oh, I get it, Barty," Tonks said sharply, "but I'm not going to take the offer. Even if I wasn't  _attached,_ I still wouldn't be interested." She shook her head in disgust. Making love with Remus meant a hell of a lot more than alleviating boredom. Savage was lucky not to get a hex, and she wondered how he got sorted into Hufflepuff. Loyalty to friends, maybe, but she didn't want to be the kind of "friend" he had in mind.

"It's Savage. Just Savage." He made a face. "I don't like my first name any more than you do yours."

"OK, Savage. Tell Dawlish I'm on my way to fly the perimeter."

He nodded and stepped back. As she began to shut the door, he said quickly, "Hey, about my offer. I wasn't trying to offend you. I thought an arrangement would benefit both of us." At her sceptical look, he blurted. "Honest—office rumour is you look like that because of a break-up. I— _achoo_! ACHOO!"

"Allergic to dust? Better leave, and next time don't listen to gossip." Tonks shut the door with a kick of her foot. She turned to Remus. "What was that? The Marauder Sneezing Jinx?"

Her lover's smile had an edge to it that made her heart beat faster. "He was fortunate not to receive an Impotence Hex."

Tonks widened her eyes theatrically. " _Merlin!_ Is that why Snape never married?"

Remus gave a bark of laughter. "Sirius and James may have pretended to consider the idea, but that's one hex Severus never received."

She smirked. "Bet he has you to thank for that."

An expression of boyish sheepishness made Remus look adorable. "Actually, Peter was the voice of reason. I was feeling none too charitable after listening to Severus's remarks about werewolves in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Tonks hugged him. "I don't blame you, but even so, I'd wager Galleons you only wanted to make the  _impairment_ temporary."

"Do you consider the school term temporary?" A gleam of mischief lit amber-coloured eyes. "They were very cutting remarks."

She grinned. "You have a nicely developed sense of vengeance." Her hands moved down to his backside. "Among other things."

Remus's chest shook with silent amusement, although he tried to keep a straight face. "Didn't you tell Savage that you were on your way to fly the perimeter?" He chuckled when she pinched his arse.

"In a hurry to see me go, are you?" Tonks pretended to sulk.

He rubbed the tip of his finger across her lower lip. "No. The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back in my arms."

She stepped away to blow him a kiss before shoving her wand into her front pocket. With a wink, she ran to snatch up her Auror robes along with the broomstick propped in a corner. "In that case, I'll save time by not bothering to put on knickers!" Tonks shoved her feet into the nearest pair of boots, threw open the window, and dove outside. The Comet might not be the fanciest broom on the market, but its stability and instant vertical lift made exits fun.

_"Nymphadora!"_

Stretched out over the broomstick, Tonks looked down at Remus and waved. "I should be back in half an hour."

He raised his wand, waving it in an intricate pattern. A green light washed over her. "If you're not, I'll track you down."

"Stop tempting me!" She dropped lower until they were eye level. "I might skive off duty and do a little nude sunbathing in a forest glade."

Remus's lips twitched. "I'm sure you'd be a sight for centaurs."

Tonks grimaced. "The kind that carry bows and arrows?"

"As well as a grudge against humans."

She sighed. "There goes my fantasy."

"I'll happily share one of mine when you return."

All of a sudden, she couldn't wait to perform her duty. "Hold that thought," she said, leaning over to give him a swift kiss goodbye.

Her broomstick gave a lurch. She hadn't ridden her broom regularly in quite a while. If she kept it idling, as it were, its magic might stall, or worse—send her into a dive. It was time to go. Tonks gripped the broom tightly and allowed it to ascend high into the air before she bent over the handle to accelerate. The broomstick shot forward.

She soon left the village behind, speeding toward the forest so thick with underbrush and trees, the only way she'd possibly spot a Death Eater was if he was entering or leaving. Out of routine, she held her wand out, ready to veer off course if the tip began to glow red in response to the working of Dark magic.

Halfway through her patrol, Tonks almost fell off her broomstick when she saw a group of cloaked figures enter the Forbidden Forest. She made the decision to apprehend and thensend her Patronus for backup. There were only four Death Eaters. She'd use a Disillusionment Charm to sneak up on them and then  _Stupefy_  the lot.

Her plan worked brilliantly. Flying low and slow, she followed the dark, narrow path until she reached the group walking single file through the forest. Non-verbal Stunning Spells froze her targets one by one.

When Tonks dismounted, she decided to have a look at the Death Eaters, to see if she could identify any of them. Wouldn't Dawlish have Kneazles if she had caught Greyback or someone else of high rank?

She pushed back the tallest man's hood. His cloak opened. Her jaw dropped. Swallowing hard, she jerked back the concealing hoods of the other three, shorter individuals. They also wore a distinctive neckerchief and uniform. Tonks said a word that would have earned her mother's Soapy Mouth Jinx. She'd stunned a group of wizard scouts!

 

 

Remus decided to tidy the bedroom and write in his journal while Nymphadora patrolled the forest. The clearing up was easily done. He only needed a few spells to make the bed and dry-clean the clothing strewn over chairs and on the grey floorboards. With a flick of his wand, he sent the folded clothes to pack themselves in her trunk, idly reflecting that his new flatmate made his lover seem the tidiest of women.

It was far harder to write down his feelings. As he sat in a chair with his journal opened to fresh page, Remus hesitated to put quill to parchment. In a way, he didn't want to deal with what he had witnessed in the early hours of the morning. It would be far easier to write about how he had almost repaid Savage's proposition with more than a jinx.

Remus valued his time with Nymphadora so much, hearing her company devalued as a way to pass the time was deeply offensive. It also brought back a memory. Well aware that he was giving in to avoidance behaviour, he flipped back to an entry from  _May, 1977._

_I finally got the opportunity to ask Sirius why he’s avoided the common room since we returned from Easter Holiday. After dinner, instead of gathering with the others by the fireplace as usual, I said I needed to read a chapter of History of Magic and went upstairs._

_When I entered the dorm, my friend was leaning out the window, about to dive out it. He heard me shout his name and turned, cracking his head against the window frame. After I listened to creative expletives and reassured Padfoot that he was not bleeding, I asked what was so awful in his life that he wanted to jump out of a tower window._

_He sat on the floor, howling with laughter. Once he contained his amusement, Sirius shared that, unlike me, he was ace at Levitation Charms. He just liked to do a little free fall before engaging the spell to boost the adrenaline rush. He escaped the tower to go running as Padfoot every night._

_I seized the opportunity to ask why he was avoiding the common room._

_Sirius grimaced, explaining that since Lily had a friend staying with her over holiday, he got friendly with the girl, but it was only a casual thing—a little snogging to pass the time while Lily and James billed and cooed at each other. When she grabbed his arm on the King's Cross platform and said she couldn't wait to tell her friends that they were going together, Sirius had blurted that she'd better, because they weren't, and escaped her clutches._

_So that is why Emma sits between Dorcas and Lily almost every evening, sniffing into her handkerchief while searching the room with her eyes. She's hoping Sirius will return to her._

_I feel even sorrier for the girl because he won't._

His friend had once been as cavalier as Savage. How painfully ironic that Sirius now kept the woman he loved waiting for his return.

Remus was stricken by the thought that he also kept his lover in a constant state of waiting. Nymphadora waited to talk to him via communication mirror. She waited for him to be able to visit. Tonight, she would wait while he had dinner at the Burrow. Tomorrow, he would leave for Salford, and a new round of waiting would begin.

He also felt the pain of separation keenly, but had to admit guilt twisted the blade of regret deeper into his gut. He had volunteered for a mission which—at the least—was dangerous, and could prove deadly. One wrong move, or a careless word, would make the pack turn on him. Not every werewolf left Salford for Inverness. Some simply disappeared. Others ended up victims of "Muggle" crime.

Remus planned to take every care possible, but knew Nymphadora worried about him. He'd seen proof that it was more than grief over Sirius and Emmeline behind her troubles with Metamorphosing.

That morning, dawn had begun to cast fingers of light across the bed when he awoke to hear a sound of distress. The first thing he had seen was the frown on Nymphadora's sleeping face. The second thing he noticed was her hair. It was spiky and bubblegum pink at the tips.

The grin that stretched his face froze when she spoke his name in a sad whisper. As he watched, her hair became limp, the pink colour fading to brown. Gently, he took her hand and kissed it, finding a measure of comfort that her features relaxed as she settled into a deeper sleep.

His own sleep had been restless. When his mate woke from a nightmare, he was already half-awake, sleepily enjoying the warmth of her body beside him.

Lack of sleep was his excuse to close the journal and let the day go by without any remark. Besides, he should get some rest in order not to be yawning when Nymphadora returned.

A playful breeze scampered through the window. The journal fell open to a blank page. Almost on its own, Remus's quill lowered to the parchment.

_July, 1997_

_A quote has sprung to mind by a poet named Richard Lovelace._

_I could not love thee, Dear, so much,  
Lov'd I not honour more._

_In Muggle Studies, both Sirius and I loathed the poem_ To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars. _Sirius said the bloke sounded as though he embraced going to war more eagerly than he ever had the woman he’d left behind. I disliked the conceit of the man who wrote it._

_I do not love honour. I am not such a noble man that I eagerly put aside the needs and wants of self to serve the needs of others. I do what is right, because it is right, and I regret the need to leave the one I love more deeply than any man-made concept of duty._

Remus shut the journal and rose to place it in the bottom of Nymphadora's trunk. Although he had brought his writing desk to Salford, it was too great a risk to keep his journal with him any longer. Wards could be broken. He would rather his past, his present, and his future remembrances be held in loving hands.

He had stretched out upon the bed and started to close his eyes when Nymphadora clambered into the attic. She dropped the broomstick and rushed to the bed. "You'll never believe what happened!"

Remus listened to her story with a smile that was as much for the sparkle in her eyes and the roses in her cheeks as the story of stupefied wizard scouts. "Were the boys upset?" he asked when she paused expectantly.

Her exuberant laughter told him the answer before she said, "No, they thought it was brilliant!" She jumped onto the mattress and scooted over to nestle close to his side. "The scout leader was cool. Hamish invited me to dinner. He and his wife are barbequing sausages and brisket for their troops. Fiona's a witch guide leader."

Remus couldn't resist teasing, "Perhaps they'll ask you to be an assistant leader."

Nymphadora draped herself over him. "I can't manage to tie you to a bedpost. How the stars would I manage any of that camping/crafty stuff?"

"I'm sure you'd find a way."

"Uh huh. I'd rather find a way around your Marauder spells and tie you to the bedposts." She kissed him lingeringly. "Now that I finally have some to tie you to."

He smiled when she said, " _Accio_ scarves," thinking it might be in his best interests to pretend not to be able to break free.

 

Upon his return to Salford, Remus thought wryly that it might be in his best interest to shut the door to the flat and pretend not to have seen his flatmate in a compromising position. Before he could completely shut the door, he heard a throat clear behind him.

"I'm looking for Lillie Agar. I was told she was here."

Remus turned to see a stout witch with a determined gaze. It was Delia Bowen. In London, the bitter woman had challenged his recommendations of neutrality every time the issue came up at the group they both attended. She didn't seem any happier to see him here. Her bear-like eyes narrowed. "You, the pacifist, in Salford? Since when?"

The door was yanked inward, forestalling his answer. An attractive young woman with large dark eyes and hair pulled back in a ponytail stood wrapped in a sheet. "You want me to leave right this bloody damned minute, Mum?  _Whatevs._  I'll march down the street like this!" She pushed past Remus, sparing a scowl for her mother. A group of boys at the end of the row whistled.

Remus glanced at Delia. She spat, "Lillie takes after her father."

The girl threw over her shoulder, "Guess what, Mum? Will says Lupin's girlfriend is even younger than Dad's!"

Treating him to a glare of utter contempt, Delia stomped off after her daughter.

Remus shrugged off his puzzlement over the odd shift in conversation and entered the flat. Will was dressed, thankfully. The young man shot him a sour look. "You have the worst timing. Next time knock louder, will you?"

"My apologies for expecting you to be getting ready for a two o'clock meeting at half past one."

A comical expression of panic crossed Will's face. He ran a hand over his hair, lifted his arm and sniffed. The boy smiled. "I'm ready."

Remus lifted his small case. "I'll put this upstairs."

"No time for that," said Will. "We want to be early."

"Very well." Remus set down the case on a table and opened the door. "After you."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In _The Princess Bride_ , Count Rugen tells Inigo, "You've got an overdeveloped sense of vengeance." I think readers will agree that Remus's sense...and other attributes...are very nicely developed!


	3. Waiting for Answers

 

 

"Lillie's mum hates me," said Will, thrusting fists into denim pockets.

Remus glanced sideways as they walked out of the council estate toward the city centre. "Perhaps it is merely her demeanour that—"

"No, she wants to AK me." Will kicked a beer can off the pavement. "Thinks an uneducated werewolf isn't good enough for her daughter." He laughed shortly. "Too bad for the old hag that Lillie doesn't give a damn what she thinks."

Lillie might not, but it was obvious that Will was affected by Delia Bowen's ill opinion. "You're not uneducated," Remus said. "You were schooled at home. There's a difference."

"I'm not a wizard. That's the true difference."

Remus frowned. "You're a werewolf. It's a magical condition. You had to have demonstrated signs of magic as a child."

"I don't have a wand. I didn't learn any spells. I'm not a wizard."

"Those aren't requirements.”

"I don't want to talk about it. We're almost there. Follow me." Will straightened his shoulders and quickened his pace. He led the way past boarded-up shops, an off licence, and a pawnshop toward what looked like a pub gone out of business. Windows were covered with plywood boarding. Graffiti had been sprayed across the walls.

Ahead of them, two men and a woman walked around the back of the building. When Remus and Will neared the rear entrance, they found a burly dark-skinned wizard standing guard. He ran his wand over both of them before asking Will, "Who's the gaffer?"

The man's slow, deep voice reminded Remus of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He held out his hand. "Remus Lupin."

After a moment of consideration, the guard engulfed Remus's smaller hand in his. "Cleave."

_Crack!_

A wizard appeared behind the pair waiting to gain entrance. Cleave jerked his head toward the door. "Go on in," he said to Remus and Will, holding a hand out to block the man following. "You know the drill, Waghorn."

Waghorn's complaints followed them into the building. "I'm one of the founding members of this pack! I deserve better treatment!"

" _Wagtongue_ would be a better name for that gobshite," Will said in an undertone. "He hasn't moved up because Greyback doesn't trust him to keep his mouth shut." The boy's face lit with puckish glee. "Hope Cleave gives him the Probity Probe treatment."

Remus preferred not to think about the details of such a probe. Instead, he let his gaze wander across the dark-panelled room, keeping a tally of those present. Dumbledore would want to know how large the pack was. So far, there were fourteen present, counting himself and the two men still outside. Out of the nine men and five women, most pack members looked to be in their twenties. Black seemed to be the most popular colour of attire.

"Want a beer?" Will headed toward the bar after receiving a nod of agreement. When Remus asked who had provided the cask, he said without turning around. "Dix. He makes real ale. He's also our leader. That's why he gets the first beer and stands beside his mate Brenda while she serves everybody else."

_Rather like training dogs,_ Remus thought. James had always had dogs. Once, he joked that as Head Boy, he was the alpha, and allowed his "pack" to eat by not giving them Detention. Sirius had shot back that if anybody tried to set up a pecking order, he would find himself at the bottom of a dog pile with a bloodied nose. Remus had laughed along with his friends, but inwardly, he'd ruefully acknowledged that in the Marauder band, he and Peter followed where James and Sirius led.

The alpha male of the Salford pack was deceptively average in appearance. Medium height and build, thirty-something. Only the intensity of his pale blue gaze hinted at the power he wielded. Dix stood beside his wife, smiling slightly as people jockeyed for position around him.

"Hello, I'm Brenda. Have a pint."

Remus glanced at the curvy woman whose smile matched her unique shade of yellow-blonde hair. "Thank you. I'm—"

"Remus Lupin. I remember you. I was a second year when your gang left school." Brenda heaved a deep sigh. "Gryffindor House was never the same."

"My wife fancied Sirius Black." Dix's dry tone was accompanied by a measuring stare. "I, on the other hand, felt Hogwarts greatly improved."

Remus said, "I'm sure it did—for Slytherin House. Weren't you a Chaser?"

"Without rival, once Potter left the pitch. Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup my last two years." His smile displayed prominent canine teeth. "Taught me a valuable life lesson, that."

"How so?" Remus asked, although he was almost certain of the answer. He sensed that the other man wanted to speak, not only to him, but also to those listening.

Sure enough, Dix raised his voice slightly. "I learned that if an opposing team loses their best players, it's a hell of a lot easier for my side to win the match."

"Not much fun for those watchin'," said Brenda. She served a newcomer a beer. "Be like playin' Hufflepuff. Over in ten minutes."

Remus adjusted his mental tally.  _Fifteen pack members, ten males._

Dix chuckled. "I'm talking about more than Quidditch, sweet, and I play to win." He looked at Remus. "What about you, Lupin? Are you in this to win, or are you content to watch from the sidelines?"

"I prefer winning to losing, like any other man," said Remus. He took a sip of beer. It was soft and creamy, with less bitterness than he was used to.  _An ironic counterpoint to my life_.

"How does the ale suit you?"

Brenda had asked the question, but her husband was the one waiting for an answer. His expression warned that if he didn't like it, there would be grave consequences.

"The taste is different from what I'm accustomed to," said Remus, "but I'm enjoying it." He shrugged. "I may come to prefer it."

Dix's smile was predatory. "You will. It's not only the taste, but the yeast. It's alive in real ale—still active."

Brenda said while refilling flagons, "S'ppose you're talkin' about more than ale." She winked at her husband.

The man's chuckle cut off when the back door slammed open. The guard's deep voice halted all conversation. "Muggles arrested Kemp!"

Delia Bowen shouldered Cleave aside. "He sent his Patronus to me, said they're holding him at the Pendleton station. He gave a false name, but if we don't get him out of there, Magical Law Enforcement is sure to find out."

Remus listened to those around him react to the announcement. Dumbledore would be more interested in this development than in learning there were seventeen werewolves in the Salford pack.

Will leaned in to say, "Dix will get him out, you'll see."

"Kemp was told not to work alone, that smash and grab wasn't the way we do things," the leader said when voices died down. "Why should I help?"

"He's pack," said Delia.

Remus had kept his eyes on the leader, so he saw the way the man's jaw tightened, even as he replied lightly, "So he is." Blue eyes shifted from the woman who challenged to the man who watched. "What do you suggest I do, Professor?"

A memory flashed into mind of Peter bursting into his room, flushed and almost hysterical.  _"They arrested Padfoot for disturbing the peace! What do we do, Moony? What do we do?"_

Although his expression remained calm, Remus was torn by indecision. Here was a chance to prove his loyalty, but at what cost? He had sworn never to use a certain item again—sworn it with such conviction, Sirius had promised never to get that tanked in the future.

He could almost hear Sirius now.  _Lucky I didn't make an Unbreakable Vow, eh, mate? That goes double for you!_

Remus didn't feel fortunate when he said, "I would pose as his solicitor, facilitate bail, and advise Mr. Kemp to steer clear of entanglements with the Muggle legal system."

Behind him, Delia Bowen said, "Lupin's a tame wolf. He can't be trusted, Dix."

The leader's eyes slid to his wife. Brenda smiled. "He sounds like a solicitor."

Dix's gaze flickered to Remus. "Do have an ace up your sleeve?"

Remus inclined his head. "In a manner of speaking."

What he had was a Perception Paper, created shortly after the Marauder's Map. Resembling a blank sheet of parchment, the paper was enchanted. When the holder verbally stated something was written on the paper—whether identification or a release form authorising bail—anyone looking at it had their perception altered to see the item exactly as described.

Sirius had taken advantage of the paper's persuasiveness to drink and get into clubs while underage. James had used it to meet Lily in the Restricted Section for midday snogs. Peter repeatedly got out of History of Magic, claiming Binns had forgotten giving him a pass to do research in the library.

Remus had only used the Perception Paper to get Sirius out of jail after they left school. That was why he had been entrusted to keep the paper. His friends had unanimously agreed that he alone could be trusted to use it for good.

He always had, until now.

After retrieving the paper and using an Appearance Charm to project the illusion of an overweight man wearing a three-piece suit, Remus made his way to the police station to free his client.

"You did a bang-up job, Pettigrew," said Kemp, clapping his "solicitor" on the back as they left the station.

"My name isn't Peter Pettigrew, and I'm only following orders," said Remus. Disavowing his actions didn't make him feel any less unprincipled. The satisfaction he'd taken in impersonating Peter tasted like ashes. He handed the man an envelope. "Dix told me to give this to you."

Apprehension crossed sharp features. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Good night."

"Hey, wait," Kemp said. "If Dix wants to meet, do you want to go with me?" He laughed a little. "As my solicitor?"

Remus shook his head. He walked a few paces before conscience made him turn back. "If I were you, I would admit fault and ask to make restitution."

Kemp scratched his head. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Good night." Attempting to leave his misgivings behind, Remus strode quickly toward an alleyway and Disapparated.

 

 

She wanted to give Remus a hug so badly her arms ached. Tonks's heart went out to her lover. Placed in a tough situation, he had done the right thing. When she said so, the eyes looking back at her from the communication mirror crinkled with amusement. "Is that you or your Black streak talking?"

Tonks stuck out the tip of her tongue. "Both." Unable to help it, she laughed. "What I'd give to see Scrimgeour's eyes bulge when a report with Peter Pettigrew's name on it crosses his desk!"

A smile chased across Remus's face. "I'd pay the few Galleons that remain to my name as well."

"What do you mean,  _the few Galleons_? When you lived with me you never ran out of money." The instant the words were out of her mouth, Tonks wished she could stuff them back in. She didn't mean to sound accusing. It was worry that sharpened her tone.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Remus said, "Will spends most of what the Ministry gives him on beer and his girlfriend, so I end up doing the marketing."

"And the cooking, and the cleaning—"

"Yes," Remus cut in. "But remember. William invited me to be his flatmate. He's the reason I'm in Salford. The reason I'm on this mission."

"I remember," she said tartly. "That's what makes me like him so much."

Remus smiled at her tone. "If I were able, I'd kiss that pouting lower lip."

She ran her tongue over the lip mentioned.

He grinned. "I would do that too."

Tonks made a strangled noise of frustration and kissed his image. "Can't you look up a spell so we're able to feel lips instead of glass?"

Boyish mischief gleamed in his eyes. "Why don't you ask Dumbledore?"

She snorted. "Oh, yeah, that would be brilliant." An idea struck. Tonks began to giggle. "Actually," she said, "it would be  _abso-bloody-lutely_  brilliant! Ask me why."

"I probably shouldn't ask, but why?"

Her grin rivalled the Cheshire Cat. "Because Dumbledore would think twice about using Legilimency on someone he thinks is into mirror sex!"

Her giggles stilled when Remus asked, "Mirror sex?"

Merlin that sounded kinky when he said it! If only she could morph and hide her blush. "I made that up," she said, "from what Cousin Rita told me about Muggles who like to talk dirty to each other on the telephone."

The corners of Remus's mouth twitched. "Is there another reason—besides deterring Legilimency—that inspired you to make something like that up?"

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "What do you expect me to say? That if we don't get to visit each other regularly you're going to find out what— _you know—_ is like?"

Remus shook his head. "I was only teasing. Forgive me."

"No, I overreacted. I'm sorry I brought the subject up."

"I'm not. I found our conversation very cheering."

Tonks said, "Thanks, although I'd still rather be with you in person."

Remus gave a bark of laughter. "I meant that teasing you cheered me up."

"Oh. Good." She changed the subject before she could embarrass herself further. "I'll send my Patronus to Hogwarts and see whether Dumbledore wants to see me tonight or have me owl in the morning."

 

Dumbledore wanted to see her right away.

" _Luminous Lollies_ ," she told the gargoyles, who leapt aside to reveal the secret entrance to the headmaster's office. Once she ascended the stairs, Tonks stood taking deep, calming breaths. It was vital that she control her emotions. The last thing she needed was Dumbledore viewing a memory of her laughing down at Remus and talking about mirror sex!

"Come in, my dear."

She almost jumped out of her skin. So much for control. She would have to avoid eye contact.

Dumbledore smiled when she entered. "Have a seat, Nymphadora, and before we begin, I would like to apologise for my inadvertent use of Legilimency at the Weasleys. I assure you, you may meet my gaze freely. I will not intrude upon your thoughts."

Tonks met his gaze. "You  _accidentally_ performed Legilimency?"

Her lingering resentment faded when he nodded like an awkward schoolboy. "At my level of proficiency, an idle thought accomplishes the same result as another's concentrated effort, I'm afraid."

She remembered Scrimgeour's "accidental" view of the showgirl she'd morphed into as his bodyguard. "My Gran would call that a mixed blessing."

Blue eyes behind half-moon glasses twinkled. "It can be."

A question popped into her mind and out of her mouth. "Sir, when you were a student, were you made prefect?"

"Head Boy too." His smile was impish. "Occlumency and meticulous planning of escapades camouflaged my inability to behave myself."

Tonks grinned. No wonder she'd always liked him, even when she was hacked off. Feeling at ease, she told him what Remus had relayed to her about the Salford pack.

Dumbledore's raspy chuckle when she spoke of Remus impersonating Peter made several eavesdropping portraits cluck their tongues disapprovingly. "Not every former Head of this school possessed a sense of humour," he said, before his expression became serious. "I would advise that such impersonation not be done again, however. The consequences could be—unpleasant."

_My nightmare coming true, faceless Death Eaters taking Remus away. I couldn't bear it!_ Tonks looked down at her lap, blinking rapidly. "Yes, sir."

She heard a drawer open and close. "Take this with you when you leave, my dear," said Dumbledore.

She leaned forward to take the chocolate bar. "I've never had  _Supervitamin-Chocolate_  before."

"It will improve your health and your spirits."

Tonks eyed the brightly coloured wrapper dubiously. "Does it taste like veg?"

Once again, his warm, raspy chuckle enfolded her like a hug. "No. Dark chocolate."

Yummy Belgian chocolate, to be exact, which put a smile on her face as she made her way down the steps to the dungeon corridor. It had lifted her spirits so much, she felt ready to corner a snake in his den—or whatever it was that snakes lived in.

When she reached Snape's private quarters, Tonks used a knock that was purposeful, yet friendly.

_Rap, Rap, Rap, Rap, Rap—Rap, Rap!_

Instantly, the door opened. Snape stared down his long nose at her. 

Tonks craned her neck to try to see over his shoulder. She couldn't see anything because he was too tall, and the lounge behind him was too dark. Her curiosity over what a snake's den looked like would have to go unsatisfied. She gave him her most persuasive smile. "Hi!"

He continued to gaze at her impassively.

She decided not to bother with small talk. "You know why I'm here. I'm assigned to Hogsmeade, so I have the time to learn to brew Wolfsbane Potion."

His expression didn't change.

Tonks lifted her chin. "I want you to teach me."

After another minute of nerve-wracking silence, he said, "The evening hours are mine to spend as I please. I no longer squander them tutoring."

She grabbed the door when he moved to shut it. "I won't take no for an answer."

Snape's eyes narrowed into black slits.

Determination kept her from fleeing. "Look," she said bluntly, "Whatever you want, whatever it takes, name your price and I'll pay it."

Tonks felt a pull on the door handle. She tightened her grip until she realised that Snape was opening the door wider, not shutting it. Holding fast to her resolve, Tonks stepped out of the torch-lit corridor and into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perception Paper was inspired by Doctor Who's psychic paper that allows him access to places he wouldn't otherwise be able to go.


	4. Waiting for Acceptance

 

 

 

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low light. When Tonks could see the room clearly, she was disappointed. It was so _normal._

"You were expecting medieval torture devices and green velvet?"

Snape's dry tone made her feel sheepish. "Snake wall sconces and black velvet, actually. Gothic, not—" She looked around. "Private library." Bookshelves lined the four walls. They even hung on the back of doors. Tonks pointed to the solitary chair next to the reading table placed in the centre of the room. "You don't ever have guests?"

He lifted an eyebrow.

She laughed nervously. "Oh. Yeah. I'm here, so I guess it's like BYOB, bring your own beer, except bring your own chair." His continued silence worked on her like a Babbling Charm. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, unless someone's like me and never been able to conjure a decent chair, although I did conjure an enormous pink beanbag once . . .." She trailed off when a wing chair materialised beside her.

Tonks perched on the edge of the seat. "Got the black velvet right," she said beneath her breath.

Snape remained standing. "Where is _Boletophagus reticulatus_ found?"

"Is that vegetable, animal, or mineral?"

The professor was not amused. He looked down his nose. "It is a rare beetle whose natural habitat has been largely destroyed by Muggles in their greed for peat and arable land."

Her jaw dropped. "You care about the environment?"

He sneered. "I care about obtaining ingredients for potions."

Tonks was weirdly relieved. If Snape turned out to be a softie who felt love for his fellow man, that would be extremely creepy. She asked, "Is this the deal, I scrape up some beetles, you teach me to brew Wolfsbane Potion?"

A strangled, chuffing noise was heard. Was Snape laughing at her? His face showed no signs of amusement when he said, "You would not be able to recognise the beetle, much less retrieve it on your own."

"But, I thought—"

"—wrongly. I require your aid in retrieving the _Boletophagus reticulatus_ this evening. Another day, I may require a different type of assistance."

"For your Potions classes?"

Her eyes grew wide when his lips curved. Stars and Stones, was the man _smiling?_ If she saw teeth she might faint in shock.

"I shall not be teaching Potions this year." When she continued to sit there, slack-jawed, he said, "I have accepted the offer to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"But...but...isn't that a cursed job?" Tonks shook her head. "Why would You-Know-Who want someone he thinks is his spy to take a position that hasn't lasted more than a year for any other professor since who knows when?"

"I know, but that knowledge is immaterial," said Snape, "as is the reasoning behind my appointment to this position."

His manner stated that the subject was closed. Tonks didn't take the hint. "Does this mean You-Know-Who thinks he'll win the war by the end of the year?" The reality of the situation sank in. Widespread destruction and chaos. Thousands of innocent lives lost. The faces of everyone dear to her flashed before her eyes.

"Here. Drink." A goblet was thrust beneath her nose.

She drank the contents before thinking to ask, "What did you give me?"

"Obviously not the Draught of Eternal Silence."

"Is there such a thing?"

"If I had more time to devote to research there would be."

Tonks sniggered. "Test it on your students, would you?"

"Or my assistant." Snape seemed to realise they were holding a semi-amiable conversation and frowned. "You were distraught. The Calming Draught restored equilibrium." He picked up the rucksack that materialised onto the table. "Carry this."

She stood. Her arm dipped when she took the rucksack. "We're going now? Where? And what's in here?"

"Yes, the Forbidden Forest, and rocks."

This time, when Snape's tone implied that the conversation was over, Tonks didn't say another word. She followed in his wake, muttering to herself, "Rocks in the sack and rocks in the head is what I've got for doing this." She didn't care for the forest in the daytime, much less at night, when the nocturnal predators came out.

Once they left the castle, Snape's strides lengthened. Tonks jogged to catch up, wincing when the rucksack banged against her shin. The closer they came, the more ancient trees seemed to bunch together, branches entwined like arms outstretched to hold intruders at bay.

Tonks was more than willing to respect the wishes of the forest, but Snape forged toward a narrow, earthen path. She grimly trudged onward, her eyes scanning the darkness. The back of her neck prickled with the feeling of being watched. Thankfully, she never saw glowing eyes peering back from the shadows.

The sound of rustling leaves and the occasional snapping of twigs kept her nerves on edge. When she heard an ominous crackling in the underbrush, Tonks instantly reacted. The spell lit up the forest in a flash of red.

Snape yelled, "NO!"

"It was only a Stunning Spell!" she hollered back.

There was a brief silence. Snape said tightly, "Wand magic attracts creatures you are not prepared to deal with. As verbal spells also broadcast traces of magic, use only nonverbal wandless spells."

Oh, now he told her. The situation reminded her of Potions quizzes on material they hadn't covered in class yet. He could be such a git. She nodded jerkily.

He used a nonverbal spell to part the bushes. "Let us see what danger of the forest lies within." After a pause, he said, "Congratulations. You have stunned a bog rat."

She looked from the dark green rat on the ground to the wizard whose wand illuminated the furry little body. "Why is there a bog rat in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Why else? There is a bog in the forest." Snape pointed his wand further down the path. "Our destination."

Tonks smelled the bog before they reached it. It was the smell of earth and decomposing leaves. Wizard scouts might get their neckerchiefs in a twist over it, but she'd rather smell Indian takeaway and Muggle petrol fumes.

"So, where do we find your beetles?" she asked.

He walked down through the mud to stand before a group of plants. In the dim light, Tonks thought she saw what looked like red tentacles on the leaves.

"This variety of carnivorous sundew draws nocturnal insects. Once a plant is bespelled to open, I will identify the _Boletophagus reticulatus_ for you to collect."

"Why can't we just summon the beetles out of the ground?"

Snape's expression remained impassive, but there was a smirk in his voice. "The _Boletophagus reticulatus_ must be partially digested."

Eeuwww. Tonks decided not to ask which potion it was for. If she'd brewed it and tested it in school, she didn't want to know. She bit her lip. "Collect them how?"

"By hand. Twelve of them. You may wish to utilise a Sealant Spell."

She was doing his dirty work. Fabulous. Tonks cast the spell as she walked down to the plants. The mud oozed over the top of her boots and made sucking sounds with each step. _Ah, the joys of nature._

Crouching down, she waited for a sundew to open. Reluctant to touch it, she tried a silent _Accio._ The plant quivered, but did not give up the beetle. She reached out and gently pulled—to no effect. She yanked harder. The sticky tentacle stretched like a rubber band. Just when she thought the whole plant would uproot, the sundew released its prey.

Tonks toppled backwards into the bog.

"Shit!" The murky water wasn't deep, but beneath the surface, the hand she put down to brace herself sank immediately into the mire, down through peat to brush what felt like bone. Before Tonks could do more than yelp, she was lifted out of the bog and dumped onto the shore.

Snape plucked the beetle from between her shaking fingers. "I advise a more delicate approach."

She dug her fingers into the mud, tempted to fling it. "Yeah? But that was so much fun, and if I fall into the bog again, I can try Apparating."

"Apparate in the Forbidden Forest and you will discover the pain of Splinching." He placed the beetle into a flagon. "Ancient magic rules here." Snape looked down at her. "Did you never read _Hogwarts, A History?"_

"I'm still waiting for the 'Good Parts' version."

He pointed to another sundew. It unfurled to reveal a distinctive black insect. Tonks wiped her muddy hand on her robe and crawled over to pry another beetle free.

After Tonks collected the specimens and followed Snape along the path to Hogwarts, she finally got the nerve to ask, "Is there a reason why I've been lugging these rocks around? I mean, am I supposed to throw them if we're attacked, or is this a test of my willingness to follow instruction?"

"Yes."

She held up two fingers, hastily lowering her hand when he whirled around. "What is it?" she asked.

"Something is tracking us."

_Click, Click!_

Adrenaline surged as Tonks thrust her hand into the rucksack, pulled out a rock, and threw it in the direction of the sound.

_Boom!_

Five metres behind her, red flames engulfed a giant spider. Tonks clapped her hands over her ears to block out monstrous shrieks of pain.

Snape grabbed her arm. "Every spider in the forest will have heard their brother's cry. Run!"

She ran. "What the hell did I throw?" she called at his retreating back.

"Igneous rock transformed to _Igneus_ —of fire."

Ominous hissing and clicking sounds filled the darkness around them, drawing steadily closer. "I'm ready to risk Splinching!" Tonks yelled.

Snape turned so sharply she almost ran into him. "There is another way out of the forest."

Tonks lost consciousness.

She awoke in her attic room, fully dressed and covered in dried mud. There was a note on the bedside table.

**Nine o'clock tomorrow. Dungeon Five.**

The spidery handwriting was Snape's. Tonks clutched the note and reached into the drawer for her communication mirror. She had to tell Remus!

 

 

 

Strix fluttered his wings as if eager to fly into the night. Remus looked past the cage to the window, once again feeling a kinship with the owl. Like Strix, he waited for moments of freedom.

With a sigh, Remus turned his gaze back to the ceiling. Contemplating water stains wasn't the most enthralling way to pass the time, but it sufficed. Earlier, he had tried to read but found his attention drifting. His mind was too filled with thoughts of Nymphadora. What was detaining her at the castle? Had some staff issue arisen, forcing her to wait to speak to Dumbledore?

He imagined her pacing back and forth, checking the time and shooting daggers at the gargoyle that blocked the entrance to the Head's office. A smile crossed his face. She was adorable when she was angry, and her mouth pouted in a way that begged to be kissed.

His love would make a face if he told her so. She would place her hands on her hips and look at him through narrowed eyes. _Adorable? Don't you mean fascinating and irresistible?_

She was that and more. Although he occasionally had doubts about the future and whether it was fair to tie a young, vibrant woman to a man of his age and circumstances, Remus did his best to focus on the present. They were mated by private vows and bound by love: a magic that went beyond blood.

Thoughts of emotional ties led to memories of a physical nature. He missed Nymphadora's touch for more than sexual reasons. There was a comfort in feeling her body nestled close to his. On the nights when fears manifested in his dreams, the warmth of her skin and the sound of her soft breaths reassured him that all was well. If a nightmare was so harrowing that he could not return to sleep, Remus knew that she would gladly awaken to make love.

He turned onto his side at the precise moment Strix shifted restlessly on his perch. Remus smiled. Was there a female owl somewhere waiting for her mate to return?

_Knock!_

Remus was standing beside the bed when the door opened. The light from the corridor cast Will's face into shadow. "There's a messenger here. Dix wants to see you." The boy jerked his head toward the wand in Remus's hand. "What's that for?"

"Defence."

Will snorted. "Maybe you aren't so tame after all."

Remus stepped forward, into the light. "No, I'm not."

His words brought a considering smile to Will's face. The truth of the words tightened the knot in Remus's stomach. He liked to think of himself as civilised, moral, with little save humanity in common with most other werewolves. His dealings with the Salford pack had taught him otherwise. Was his willingness to do what needed to be done to accomplish his goals much different than theirs?

On the way downstairs, he slipped a hand into his pocket to touch the communication mirror. If Nymphadora tried to contact him before he returned, he wouldn't be able to answer. If it happened, he hoped that she would believe him asleep.

In the lounge, a middle-aged man with thin, sharp features stood picking his teeth with a thumbnail. It was Kemp. He wiped his hand on his trousers after catching sight of them. "You Lupin? Best step lively. Dix don't like to be kept waiting."

Outside, Kemp took Remus's hand and shook it vigorously. "Saved my life, your advice. Thought Dix was going to slice me up and toss me in the river until I begged to make restitution."

"I'm glad I could help."

Kemp laughed, revealing crooked teeth. "That goes double for me, mate!"

They were walking in the direction of the abandoned pub. This time, the burly guard opened the back door from the inside when they approached.

Remus said, "Good evening, Cleave.”

"Lupin." He spared a single glance for Kemp. "Go home."

"Right. Anything you say. I'm off." There was a _pop_ and then Kemp was gone.

Cleave said over his shoulder to the man waiting at the bar, "He's clean."

"Come in and have a drink, Lupin," said Dix. "Do you prefer ale or Firewhisky?"

"Ale."

Dix, with his slicked back dark hair, tailored shirt and trousers, resembled a businessman more than the leader of a werewolf pack—not that Remus would confide his opinion. There was a look in the other man's eyes that revealed the feral nature hidden beneath the surface. He set a green bottle down on the bar.

The communication mirror warmed the moment Remus sat on the stool. He showed no reaction. Inwardly, he prayed that Nymphadora would not assume the worst.

"Wise decision. I drink Firewhisky on occasion," said Dix, taking a pull of his bottle, "but not regularly. I've seen too many men lose their common sense under the influence."

Remus thought of Sirius bursting into his room.

_Harry thinks that I'm being held captive at the Ministry. We have to save him from Voldemort's trap!_

Had alcohol slowed down Sirius's reactions during the Ministry battle? Would he have avoided the veil if his reflexes had been unimpaired? Remus didn't know, and those questions were likely to haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I see you have too," said Dix.

Remus took a sip of ale that he did not want. "Yes."

"Then you'll understand why I didn't invite young William to accompany you this evening."

"He only drinks beer," said Remus.

Behind Remus, Cleave said in his deep voice, "That's because he can't afford Firewhisky."

Dix chuckled. "Werewolves do tend to self-medicate." He placed his bottle on the bar with a loud thud. "That's what the Ministry wants. To keep us down, in our place, and on the dole." His smile was predatory. "I aim to change that."

"How?"

"I'd like to tell you, Lupin." Dix shook his head slightly. "But I don't trust you yet."

The mirror in his pocket had grown cool. Remus hid his alarm with a nod. "That's only prudent."

"Hear that?" Dix asked Cleave with an amused smile. "No protest, no begging for a chance to prove himself." He picked up his bottle and took another drink. "You tell me. What should we do with the good professor?"

Remus glanced back into fathomless dark eyes. Cleave said, "Let him prove himself."

"Is that what you want?" Dix asked Remus.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I want to provide for my mate."

Dix's pale blue eyes flickered past Remus's shoulder.

"He speaks the truth," said Cleave.

Remus turned, surprise etched on his face. "Are you a Legilimens?"

"No. I can smell lies."

Dix said, "My second is multi-talented." He braced his hands on the bar and leaned across. "Are you multi-talented, Lupin?"

"Yes."

"Can you create a dummy corporation for the pack and use it to acquire legal ownership of this establishment?"

With research, the aid of certain spells and the Perception Paper, he could. "Yes."

"Excellent." Dix pointed to the far wall. "What do you know about darts?"

Remus repeated what Sirius had once told him. "There are three kinds of dart players. Those who can count and those who can't."

Dix laughed. "Let's see what type you are."

Remus could count, which is why he made sure to let Dix win three matches to one.

Afterward, he bid the two men goodnight and Apparated back to the front step of the flat. The door was slightly ajar. He had shut the door upon leaving. Remus gripped his wand and thrust the door open.

The pair sitting on a futon having a chat jumped to their feet.

Nymphadora hurled herself into his arms. "Remus!" She hugged him tightly. "I know I don't have permission and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I had to come!" She pressed tiny kisses along his jaw line. "I missed you so much!"

Her eyes said _I was so worried! I couldn't stand not knowing!_

The flash of anger Remus first felt after his relief faded. He would have done the same in her place. When her lips grazed his he kissed her tenderly, stroking her hair, her face.

Remus lifted his head at the sound of a throat clearing. He looked toward Will. "Are you going to report this visit?"

"Depends," said Will. "What can you offer to buy my silence?"

 

 


	5. Accidents Waiting to Happen

 

 

 

"What do you want?" Nymphadora asked.

Remus saw the dangerous gleam in his lover's eye. She was about to wipe the smirk off the boy's face. He took her hand.

After a few seconds, the tension left her grip.  _I know, I know, I should let you handle this;_ her rueful expression seemed to say.

He smiled a little.  _Yes, you should._

Will cleared his throat. "Ahem. Remember me? The bloke you need to keep quiet?"

Remus gave the young man a warning look. "If money is what you want, I'll tell Dix myself before I pay you a Knut of extortion."

Will shook his head. "I want you to teach me, professor."

_I should have expected this._   _His anger, his envy, the way he watched so intensely every time a spell was cast. All signs I ignored, because I didn't want to see them._

Nymphadora broke the silence. "Teach you what? Latin?"

Will flushed. "More than that. Magic."

"No." Remus's answer was automatic.

Nymphadora squeezed his fingers. "You're thinking about what will happen if you fail. Don't. Will's a big boy. He won't cry." She gave him a meaningful look. "Consider the possibilities if you succeed!"

_The pack will trust you_ was the unspoken message.

If only it was that simple.Remus said, "No wand maker would fit him for a wand, and borrowing one would be perilous to a novice."

"We'll research wand lore, then. Find a way to make it work."

Remus exhaled heavily. "And if there is no way?"

She took a step closer. "Teach him wandless magic!" Before he could do more than frown, Nymphadora said, "Sixth years learn wandless magic, even nonverbal spells."

"After years—"

"Yes!" she cried. "Years. It takes maturity. Younger wizards and witches don't have the strength of will to use  _themselves_ as a continual focus for magic. Will is nineteen."

Will said, "I'm not a kid.”

Remus kept his gaze on Nymphadora.

Her eyes blazed with conviction. "He might never be able to cast complex spells, but  _any_ spell, any degree of magic-wielding is better than nothing!" Her voice lowered beguilingly. "You'll prove your loyalty to the pack and give Will an opportunity he's never had before. Say yes."

"Listen to the one who wears the trousers, Lupin." Will chuckled. "She's got bollocks for the both or you."

When Nymphadora rounded on Will, looking ready to hex, Remus let go of her hand and caught her arm. "Go upstairs."

"What?"

He kept his tone and expression stern. "This is none of your concern. Go upstairs."

A blush stole over her face. "And await you naked?" She jerked her arm away. "Yes, master."

Will's eyebrows disappeared beneath his fringe as Nymphadora stalked out of the room.

Stomping footsteps were heard. A door slammed.

"Damn, old man," said Will. "You really know how to control your—"

"Be silent." Remus was at odds. A hot-headed youth with a grudge against wizards was the last person who should be taught to use magic, and yet, wasn't the Ministry's regulations against werewolves greatly responsible for Will's hostility? Didn't it stand to reason that if the boy had an option other than following the Dark Lord he might take it?

Will was even less patient with silence than Nymphadora. "Are you going to teach me or not?"

"Why should I?"

"You...because...what Nym said."

Remus remained silent.

A muscle in Will's jaw flexed as he tried and failed to control his emotions. He said, "Because I'm tired of being treated like I'm useless! I want to learn, and if you don't teach me, I'll teach myself!"

The correct answer. "I need time to do research, then I'll teach you."

A grin stretched the boy's face from ear to ear. "Brilliant! I've got to tell Lillie. She said you'd do it!" Will bounded toward the door, stopped, and came back to hold out his hand. "Thank you," he said gruffly.

"Thank me by telling no one except Lillie. If this venture is unsuccessful—"

"It won't be," Will said. "I'll still tell her to keep her mouth shut, though." Pale green eyes lit with mischief. "Wonder if I could get her to say 'yes, master.' That'd be cool."

"Or earn a Freezing Hex."

Will sniggered. "Is that what you expect? Hilarious."

Remus waited until the front door closed to walk upstairs. In all honesty, he didn't know what kind of reception awaited him. He could be hit with a Jelly Legs or pressed against the wall and snogged. He might end up jinxed  _and_ kissed, or find his lover on the bed wearing nothing but a challenging smile.

Inside the room, Nymphadora stood beside the window. She leaned a bare shoulder against wall as she looked out into the night. "I was going to strip completely, but I didn't want to give prospective Peeping Toms a thrill."

Her lacy red bra and matching panties were the only splash of vivid colour in the room. Remus said, "I find the view thrilling."

"Thanks."

As she continued to stare out the window, Nymphadora's profile gave little clue to what she was thinking. Remus slipped off his shoes and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his socks. "Do you know  _why_  I spoke to you as I did downstairs?"

"Yeah. Wolf stuff. I didn't mean to, but I came across as dominant. You had to show Will that I wasn't, or he wouldn't respect you."

Remus unbuttoned his shirt. The flat tone of her voice worried him. "If I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry."

Nymphadora turned to face him. "I'm not upset because you went Alpha male on me." She walked toward him. "It didn't hurt my feelings." In a quick move, she lunged, pinning him back against the mattress, holding his wrists above his head. "It got me hot."

Her knees pressed against his sides. In their current position, he was tempted to use a simple  _Finite Incantatem_ to cause her breasts to spill out of the low-cut bra.

In an admirable demonstration of flexibility, she kissed him. "Now I'm going to have to go Alpha female on  _you_ to prove that I'm not the only one who likes their mate strong and sexy."

Later, when her fingers stroked lazy patterns on his chest, Remus told her about his meeting with Dix. He asked, "What delayed you at the castle?" His lips twitched. "Was Severus once again petitioning for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?"

"He told me he's already got it."

"When?" Remus was stunned. Why was Dumbledore allowing Severus to take the position? What did it mean?

"When I asked him to make a deal."

Remus sat up. "Why did you ask him to do such a thing?"

"You know why. I need Snape to teach me how to brew Wolfsbane Potion. He needs an assistant. We made a deal."

"He's never had an assistant before."

Nymphadora sat up to face him. "Maybe he got tired of plucking half-digested beetles off sundews."

The night was starting to feel like a fall down a rabbit hole. Remus ran a hand over his face. "Begin at the beginning, please," he said, "and go on until you come to the end."

"Then stop?" Nymphadora’s smile was wry. "You've told me that before. It fits tonight, too, with my adventures in wonderland, or rather the Forbidden Forest." She saw his expression and laughed. It sounded nervous. "I forgot about all that during—" She waved a hand around. "All this." She drew in a deep breath. "OK. First I went to go see Dumbledore."

Flooded with details, Remus concentrated on the most important points. After his love finished sharing, he said, "When you return to Hogsmeade, owl Dumbledore and tell him I have no plans to assume Peter's identity ever again. Once was quite enough." He could still remember the bitter taste in his mouth.

"What about Snape?" Nymphadora held out her arms and flapped her hands. "Do you think he's an Animagus gargoyle?"

"No. Gargoyles aren't real. They're fantastic creatures carved in stone."

"Then he really is a malevolent bat? No wonder he smirked when students muttered that in class." She made a face. "I thought he just got his jollies taking House points." Suddenly, her expression shifted, as if an upsetting thought had just occurred. "If Snape's an Animagus, then he must have transformed me into a mouse or something. The biggest bat in the world couldn't fly a human out of the forest." Her hands balled into fists. "What if he'd gotten hungry?"

"Mega-bats eat fruit, not mice," said Remus, "but I wonder if the answer isn't simpler. He used a Feather-light Spell...or the master has taught his servant to fly."

"Which master? Dumbledore or You-Know-Who?"

"Can a man serve two masters? Your Gran's priest would say a man will hate the one and love the other." Remus's brow furrowed. "Which master does Severus Snape truly serve?"

"Dumbledore trusts him. He must have a reason." Nymphadora shrugged. "Snape didn't leave me to the spiders. That's enough for me."

"But why didn't he wake you?" asked Remus. "That seems suspicious."

"It's obvious," she said with a snort. "He didn't want answer questions about how he got us there." Nymphadora's tone became cheeky. "Are you worrying that Snape got a grope in after he dumped me on the bed? He didn't."

"How do you know?" Remus felt like a territorial animal bristling at the thought of another male near his mate.

Her eyes sparkled with laughter. "I didn't wake up clean in a sheer nightie with a wet flannel and a basin of cloudy water on the table. I was covered in muck. And when I undressed to take a shower, there was dried mud in places there wouldn't have been if any funny stuff had gone on." She leaned forward and rubbed his mouth with hers. "Including my lips."

He kissed her until she sagged against him.

She made a bereft-sounding whimper when he left the bed. "Where are you going? To get a drink of water?"

Remus smiled. From the way Nymphadora eyes rounded, it must have looked wolfish. "I'm going to get a basin of water and a flannel."

In the corridor, he laughed softly when he heard, "Bring two flannels."

Hours later, Nymphadora awoke him with a kiss. "I'd better catch the Knight Bus if I want to get back to Hogsmeade in time for patrol."

Remus stretched out a hand to caress her abdomen. "I'll make breakfast first. Your stomach is rumbling.” While Tonks dressed, he slipped on his robe and padded downstairs. The lounge held only two upright futons. Will had spent the night away from home.

Content to be alone with Nymphadora, Remus whistled as he checked to see what food had managed to escape a growing boy's never-ending appetite.

"Mmm, you're frying up bubble and squeak." Nymphadora's hands slid over his backside before she hugged him from behind.

Remus said, "Will ate the leftover roast, but not the veg. Smashed potatoes, carrots and onions aren't fancy, but they go well enough with eggs and tomato." He grinned at her over his shoulder. "You said 'bubble' while fondling my posterior. Any particular reason?"

Her exuberant laughter brought sunshine into the dreary kitchen. "Your bum is perfect, nothing like a bubble. If you don't believe me . . .."

"You'll write a limerick?"

"No, I'll do a bum check!" She dropped her hands as she spoke and pinched before he could turn. "Perfect, just like I said."

Remus pulled Nymphadora into his arms. "One good pinch deserves another, I always say."

She giggled when his hands cupped her derrière.

They both jumped when they heard, "AHEM!"

Will had returned. He was accompanied by his girlfriend.

Lillie was staring at the other woman's tee shirt. "You like MegaMaggot?"

"Doesn't everybody?” Nymphadora held out a hand. “Hello. I'm Nym."

The younger girl shook it with a grin. "Lillie. My mum thinks MegaMaggot makes noise, not music."

"Tell her to listen to the song  _The Beast Inside,_ " said Nymphadora. "I think she'd find herself able to  _identify_ with Jonas's lyrics _."_

"Ha!" Will said. "Told you the drummer had to be a werewolf."

Lillie punched him in the arm. "Shut up, you! Nobody likes a know-it-all."

"You do."

While the others chatted, Remus used spells to enlarge the portions of food and keep it warm. He waited for a lull to say, "Have you two had breakfast? There's plenty."

The young couple—who appeared on the verge of either a fight or a snog—burst into laughter.

"Told you he'd feed us," Lillie crowed.

"Know-all," Will shot back.

Remus served Nymphadora first, whispering in her ear, "So much for a peaceful breakfast with the woman I love."

She pecked him on the lips. "Think of it as practise for parenting. You'll be a brilliant father one day."

_A father? Him?_ Remus dished up a plate for Lillie. It was one thing to fantasise, and quite another to hear the words said aloud. When he handed Will breakfast, Remus was overwhelmed by troubling thoughts.  _Would my child be a werewolf? Would I doom him to a life as bitter as Will's?_

Appetite ruined, he placed food on his plate and followed the others into the lounge.

 

 

Tonks Apparated from Remus's front steps to the nearest shopping centre. At such an early hour, the pub with a Floo connection was closed. Not even the homeless wandered the streets. She held out her wand arm, sticking her thumb up like a Muggle hitchhiker. If she had the confidence to Apparate long distances, she wouldn't take the Knight Bus.

_Crack!_

A purple triple-decker bus appeared out of thin air, screeching to a halt beside her.

"Wotcher, Ernie!" Tonks said to the elderly driver perched on the seat. He looked like an owl, peering at her through thick glasses.

He shook his head. "Algernon. Ernie's m'brother. Destination?"

"Hogsmeade."

The bus wasn't the same without Stan. The replacement conductor lounged on a bed, reading a book. He didn't even glance up when she tossed a ticket onto the coverlet. Tonks didn't feel slighted. She was relieved that the bus had not switched the beds for chairs yet. She was sleepy.

Five of the brass beds were occupied, so she climbed onto the last available one. No sooner did her knee hit the mattress than the bus took off.

_Crack!_

Tonks tumbled over and discovered why no one had chosen her bed. It had an enormous depression in the centre of the mattress. She conjured a pillow and looked on the bright side. She wouldn't roll off.

She fell into a deep sleep, awakening only when the conductor yelled, " _Hogsmeade!"_

When her feet were on the ground and the bus had disappeared from sight, Tonks belatedly realised that she hadn't been specific when giving her destination. She was standing in front of the Hog's Head. The gory sign creaked back and forth, the rusty sound more offensive than the painted blood dripping from the image of a decapitated hog. "I'm so lucky not to live here," Tonks muttered.

"It's not that bad," said a voice behind her. "The barkeep's a decent cook."

_Dawlish—damn!_ She turned with a breezy smile. "I hope you volunteer to wash the dishes. From what I've seen, householdy spells aren't that bloke's forte."

"No, they're not." His expressionless voice took on a steely cast. "Why were you absent without my leave?"

He was old enough to be her father, but that didn't mean Tonks was going to let Dawlish treat her like a wayward teenager. "I didn't need permission. I wasn't on holiday. I went out and then I came back. End of story."

"I require—"

"—me to do my job? No problem. I'll go get my broom."

"Take mine." Dawlish held out a Nimbus racing broom. "When you get back, bring it to my office. We need to talk."

After he marched away, Tonks smacked her palm against her forehead.  _Why didn't I play dumb? I could've said, Did I need permission to leave the village? Gosh, the Auror manual says leave is only needed for holidays. He would've bought it. Now I'm in for a lecture and stars knows what else!_

She used a Warming Charm and mounted the broom. It didn't brighten her mood that Dawlish's broomstick was better than hers. She pushed the speed to the maximum. The slight hesitation before the Acceleration Charm kicked in revealed that her superior never utilised his broom to its fullest potential. It was just as she thought. Dawlish was the type that played it safe and did everything by the numbers. He would have been better suited to riding a Cleansweep.

Before she returned to the Hog's Head, Tonks stopped by Three Broomsticks. The MegaMaggot tee with a red bra peeking from the armholes would give Mr. Rules and Regulations a negative opinion of her professionalism. She took a quick shower and changed into a white blouse paired with khaki green trousers.

"I didn't expect you back for another quarter hour," said Dawlish, placing a mug down upon the desk. His eyes narrowed. "Were you speeding?"

Tonks said straight-faced, "I fly efficiently." She handed over the broom. "Thanks for letting me borrow the Nimbus. It's a great ride."

He examined the broomstick closely. "Have a seat." Apparently reassured that she hadn't bent a twig or scratched the finish, he placed the broom in what looked like a specially made rack on the wall.

Penetrating eyes gave Tonks the feeling of being examined like a broomstick. Dawlish said, "This is not the usual Auror assignment."

Drawn out silence made it clear he expected a response. She crossed her legs. "Yes, sir." Tonks noticed her boss gazing at her combat boots and placed both feet on the floor. What did he expect her to wear: white sandals?

"Then you will agree that in this unique situation, it is vital to the safety of those residing in the village and Hogwarts that Aurors be available at all times."

"Yes, sir."

Granite-like features softened. "Then from now on, you will account for your whereabouts at all times, asking permission before you leave the village."

There was no way to sugar coat her answer. "No, sir. I'll send my Patronus to inform you if I leave, and I'll keep you notified of my whereabouts when I'm on duty, but my off-duty hours are mine to spend at my own discretion, as stated in the Auror manual."

Dawlish smiled mirthlessly. "The manual. I never expected you to resort to that." He shook his head. "You didn't play Quidditch, did you?"

"No, sir."

"If you had, you'd know what happens to those who forget to be team players." He leaned forward. "They fly extra laps." Dawlish picked up a quill and drew a line through a name on a parchment. "Savage was on the schedule for night patrol this week. He'll be informed that you are now assigned the duty."

"Yes, sir."  _If you think I'm going to protest, I won't, you bastard!_

The clock on the wall chimed. Dawlish's lips curved, but his eyes were hard. "I put myself on the midday patrol of the school, but I think  _you_  are better suited to the task."

"Yes, sir," she said, keeping her expression stoic so her contempt wouldn't show.  _Am I supposed to break down into tears and promise to be a good Auror from now on?_ Tonks thought.  _Don't hold your breath. I'd rather stay busy than sit around worrying about Remus anyway._

An hour later, she turned the pear-shaped handle to enter the Hogwarts kitchen. Strolling around talking to ghosts really gave a girl an appetite. She smiled at the savoury aromas wafting from the rotisseries that magically turned themselves.

A scuffle in the back corner of the room drew her attention. House-elves were grouped in a circle, jostling to see whatever was happening in the centre.

"No! I will not wear it! You cannot make me!" an elf cried.

"Take his towel! Take his towel!" the rest of the elves chanted.

Tonks saw red. She cast a Sonorous Charm to raise her shout above all the others. " _Stand back or I send for the Headmaster!"_

In the twinkling of an eye, every elf had vanished except one. He pointed a gnarled finger at her.

She lifted her wand.

_"YOU!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think everyone knows who the elf Tonks saved is...and didn't you miss him, just a little? Tonks envied Snape his ability to Apparate long distances in a night duty scene in Moonlight and Shadow, but I don't expect everyone to remember--although if any reader does, I'll envy them their memory! For those of you who believe gargoyles are real, Luna would agree and tell Tonks and Remus they live in the Land of Naught. A wizard by the name of L. Frank Baum said so. :D. As for why I gave Ernie Prang a brother named Algernon—who could resist a nod to _The Importance of Being Earnest_?


	6. Lessons in Waiting

 

 

_"You!"_ Tonks and Kreacher said in unison.

Kreacher sounded incredulous. Tonks was angry: mostly with herself. Why had she stopped the elves? The betrayer deserved to have everything he cherished stripped away—just like Cami. Her eyes widened when she saw the dingy tea towel start to slide. She took that back. He could keep the towel. "Oi! Tie a knot or something! I don't want to see your  _Toujours Pur_  tattoo!"

The hair in his ears seemed to quiver with indignation. "Kreacher has no such tattoo!"

He secured his towel with an air of wounded dignity. Tonks's lip curled. "Oh, did you go for the heart with Walburga in it? How sweet."

Kreacher stared at her, unblinking.

Her Black streak flared. "What's the matter? Embarrassed? Or do you feel guilty because Mrs. Black's not the love of your life anymore?"

That got a reaction, but not the one she expected. His head jerked back. The tips of his ears turned red.

Tonks was the one staring now. "My gods, it's true!" The highlight of Cami's day was reliving moments with Sirius in the Penseive while Kreacher had moved on. It wasn't fair. Something dark and bitter slithered up from the depths of her soul. She leaned down. "Hard to cling to a memory, isn't it?" she whispered. "You try, but you just can't help wanting something real, something you can touch."

Kreacher remained silent.

She grabbed his arm. "D'you think Bellatrix is going to give you what you want? She won't. Harry Potter's your master now, and he'll never let you near her. Never!" Infuriated by Kreacher's goggle-eyed stare, she shook him.

_"Am I interrupting something?"_

Tonks froze. Dragon dung! It was Snape. She dropped Kreacher's arm.

The elf looked past her, bowing slightly. "How is Kreacher to serve you, professor?"

Snape's footsteps didn't echo in the vast stone chamber. He seemed to glide forward. "The Slytherin house-elf came to me in great distress." Fathomless eyes flickered from woman to elf. "I require a coherent explanation. What transpired here?"

"I came in for a snack and found the kitchen elves grouped in a circle, chanting "take his towel." I told them to stand back. They left," said Tonks.

"Is that all?" Snape looked directly at Kreacher.

The elf began picking at a loose thread on the hem of his towel. "Yes, professor," he said, head bent to concentrate on snapping off the thread with his fingernails.

"Really?" Snape said silkily. "Then explain the scene I witnessed a few moments ago."

Kreacher's watery blue eyes shot to Tonks.

She said the first thing that came to mind. "Assertiveness Training."

Snape made a "humph" sound of either disbelief or amusement. Tonks was still trying to decide which when he asked, "And I interrupted? How remiss. Pray continue." He made no move to leave.

Kreacher stood with a faint smile on his face. Did he think that she was going to start babbling the true story of what happened? She wasn't.

"All right," Tonks said, trying to project a professional tone. Her only familiarity with Assertiveness Training came from a self-help book. Evan, her ex-fiancé, had been a Slytherin used to always getting his way. She had fallen into a Hufflepuff habit of giving in because she loved him. The book hadn't been much help, because Evan had been happy with his dominant position in the relationship. He didn't want to change. Her happiness had come later, when she no longer wore his ring. She remembered the concepts well enough to say, "Kreacher, do you realise that you have allowed others to dominate you?"

"Yes."

_And you like it, don't you? Twisted little squit._ Tonks took a calming breath. "Do you acknowledge your feelings of anger?"

"No."

She threw him a steely look. He wasn't taking his cue. She tried again. "You have to admit your feelings of anger before you can decide to stop passive-oriented behaviour and act on that decision."

"Kreacher is not angry." His tone became gloating. "You are the one who is angry."

Damn right she was! She had stopped the other elves from taking his towel. What did he do in return? Made her look like an idiot. Tonks counted to ten, and had to count over again.

"I take it that the...training session...is over?"

Snape's dry tone was the last straw. Tonks snapped, "Yes, it is," and stalked toward the door.

She was halfway down the main corridor when she heard, "Auror Tonks."

Hand on hip, she faced Snape. "Yeah?"

He raised an eyebrow.

Tonks crossed her arms. She wasn’t a student anymore. She didn’t have to say, “Yes, sir.”

Snape said, "With elves like Kreacher, passivity is too deeply ingrained. Contentment is only found through servitude."

Did he think she cared whether or not Kreacher grew a spine and asserted himself? Tonks said, "Then he'll be miserable at Hogwarts."

"Will he?"

"Without a Mistress to act the submissive wretch for? Absolutely." The thought was deeply satisfying.

"Kreacher hides his misery well," said Snape, stepping past her.

In a detached manner, Tonks noted that his robes billowed like bat wings. Maybe it wasn't just due to special tailoring. "Are we still on for tonight?" she called after him. Immediately, she qualified, "For tutoring?" Not that there was anyone around to get the wrong idea, but still. Who knew when there was a ghost eavesdropping? She cringed at the thought of Moaning Myrtle or one of the other gossips spreading what they thought was a juicy story.

"Nine o'clock," he said without breaking stride. "Bring silver and obsidian knives."

The implication that he didn't trust her to treat his knives properly barely registered. Tonks was too busy trying to deny the images flashing in her mind.  _Kreacher, glassy-eyed, transfixed by her anger...Kreacher's fingers rubbing the spot where she'd grabbed his arm, practically caressing the skin while he said, "I am not angry."_

"No," she said. "I'm not Walburga. I'm not Bellatrix. I'm not like them." Her voice belied the words: weak and despairing. She had acted out of rage. If Snape hadn't entered the kitchen, she would have shaken Kreacher like a rag doll.

_And enjoyed it, wouldn't you?_

It was horribly easy to imagine Bellatrix laughing, to remember her jeers in the Death Chamber.  _I hear you're more a Black than your blood-traitor cousin, wittle Tonksie._

Tonks was glad that she hadn't eaten. She would have vomited. Before she could reconsider, she yelled, "Kreacher!"

In the blink of an eye, he stood in front of her.

She looked at his arm. There were no marks in the shape of fingers.

The old elf stood straighter. "Elves do not bruise so easily as humans."

The matter-of-fact words brought tears to her eyes. "I'm never going to forgive you for betraying Sirius," she said, "but I had no right to hurt you. I'm sorry."

As soon as the words were said, she ran: away from Kreacher, away from the castle, away from emotions that caused her to cry and made her want to scream. Once past the iron gates to the school, she could have Apparated. Instead, Tonks kept running.

 

 

After Nymphadora left, Remus went upstairs. It was still hard to believe that he had agreed to teach Will magic. The idea was overwhelming and daunting as well. He didn't know if he was up to the task. It was one thing to follow a curriculum and implement lesson plans at Hogwarts. This was an entirely different situation. He couldn't work out lesson plans for his unusual student until he devised a course of study.

By rote, he picked up discarded clothing and made the bed. Beneath his pillow was a packet. The handwriting on the note inside was bold and feminine.

**I know you prefer to support small, wizard-run shops, but with prices rising due to the war and two (or three!) to feed on a limited budget, please consider shopping at Muggle butchers and greengrocers. The carry bag is from a second-hand shop. Although it's a bit old and shabby, the Capacious and Feather-light Charms were cast by Elmira Gulch, who later wrote _Practical Household Magic_. Mum says she's brilliant.**

Remus smiled over Nymphadora's oblique way of saying she hadn't read the book. He didn't think less of her. He hadn't read the book either.

He reached into the packet and unfolded the canvas carry bag. Its original colour had turned dingy grey. The canvas showed signs of wear. Remus didn't mind. He was rather grey and shabby himself. It had long handles and spells that would allow him to make several purchases before returning to the flat. He appreciated the gift.

The material made a crackling sound when he patted it. Remus stuck a hand inside the bag. He pulled out a wad of Muggle currency wrapped inside another note.

**It's impossible to buy from Muggle shops without Muggle money. The exchange rate is favourable at Gringotts, if that makes any difference, and I saved Galleons by shrinking and delivering this myself instead of sending it via the Owl Post. I would've given you more if I thought you would accept it. Please don't be angry. I love you.**

Remus gazed at her signature for several minutes, grappling with his pride. Nymphadora was well aware that he would rather do without than ask for assistance.

He was used to deprivation. The Ministry incapacity benefit for werewolves was doled out monthly. Whenever he was between jobs, Remus had to spend carefully to make the stipend last. Due to the unexpected expense of feeding Will, his funds were all but spent.

There were still two weeks of July remaining.

With less than a week until the full moon, every werewolf would start craving red meat. Dix provided an occasional beer, but Remus doubted he supplied his pack with steak. A great deal of self-control was needed to deny cravings. Will likely planned to resort to theft.

_Please don't be angry._

Nymphadora had acted out of love. He couldn't be angry or let pride stop him from using the money.

Downstairs, Will was sprawled on the sofa, laughing over an article in  _The Quibbler._ The boy grinned when he saw the carry bag in Remus's hand. "Going to the market? Ace. There's nothing but tinned beans in the cupboard."

"Where did you get the paper?" asked Remus.

"Lillie nicked it from her mum. Why?"

"We'll return it on our way."

Will shot him a wary glance. "On our way where?"

"Shopping." Remus opened the front door.

"I'm not going shopping."

Remus walked outside. "You will if you want to eat."

Will followed, slamming and locking the door. "What the hell do you want from me, Lupin?"

"I want you to have an appreciation for the food you eat and to realise exactly how much it costs." He ignored Will's disgruntled muttering. "First, we will return the paper to Mrs. Bowen."

"We? I'm the one holding it."

Will led the way toward a flat at the opposite end of the row from theirs. The ground floor windows were open. Voices carried.

"You should have seen them," said Lillie. "She was all over him and he loved it. He couldn't keep his hands off her."

" _Shut up!"_

Remus felt sorry for Delia. She must still care for her ex-husband for her daughter's taunt to be so upsetting. He knocked on the door and stepped back a few paces, gesturing to Will to step up.

Lillie answered the door. "Hi! I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"Here's your mother's paper."

Delia shouldered her daughter aside to snatch the tabloid. "How did you get my  _Quibbler?_ Did you steal it?"

"No! I, erm, borrowed it earlier and wanted to return it." Will ran a hand over his hair as though to make it more presentable. "We're going shopping," he said when Delia made no comment. "May, uh, we get you anything?"

Lillie leaned over her mother's shoulder. "She'll invite you to dinner if you bring her a couple of steaks."

"Really?" Will asked.

"Depends on the steaks," said Delia. She told her daughter, "Aren't you going to be late for work?"

Lillie kissed her mother's cheek before kissing Will firmly on the lips. "I'll be home by six. I'll pick up dessert. You bring the steak." She Apparated.

Delia shut the door.

Will looked at Remus. "Can you afford steaks?"

"If we shop at a Muggle butcher shop."

" _Muggle?_ "

"Yes, Muggle, if you want to eat beef instead of tinned beans on toast."

Will jerked his head toward the open window. "All right, but don't tell you-know-who."

" _You-Know-Who_  has more pressing concerns than our shopping habits," said Remus.

Will gave a bark of laughter. "Yeah, right. Don't tell him, either."

Remus smiled. "Believe me, I won't."

 


	7. Waiting to Get the Last Word

 

 

 

Beneath crimson awnings, a display of fresh meat hung in the front window of the Robinson Family Butchers. Remus's eyes fixed on a huge joint of beef. His stomach growled.

Will sniggered. "Didn't you tell me never to shop for groceries when I'm hungry?"

Remus's stomach gurgled even more loudly. "You shouldn't," he said, clinging to dignity. "You haven't developed proper self-control."

"What? And you have?"

"Over the years, yes, I have."

Will wasn't impressed. "If being content to do without is what you call self-control, I don't want any."

That was no surprise to Remus. Fenrir Greyback and his minions like Skoll and Dix painted a rosy picture of werewolves given power and treated with respect. They failed to mention that the blood spilled to achieve Voldemort's ends would likely belong to their followers.

"I haven't asked you to be content," Remus said. "I only ask you to be realistic. When you have limited funds, you have to budget."

"I s'ppose next you'll have me give up beer?"

Will's unenthusiastic tone earned a smile. "No, just moderate your drinking."

"Fine. I'll consider it, if you'll consider entering the shop before you start drooling."

Remus opened the door without replying. It was no hardship to let the boy have the last word. At school, when Sirius got in one of his moods, he'd argue his opinion with anyone—for hours if need be—to get the last word. James said he reckoned it was because Mrs. Black always insisted on having the final say. As Will seemed to react in a similar manner to authority figures, Remus decided it would be best not to present himself in that light.

"This place smells like Muggles." Will’s gaze darted back and forth over metal wall cladding and cabinets that ran the length of the shop.

Remus thought Will looked like a spooked horse. "Describe the smell."

"Stale air. Sickness. Cigarettes. Muggles stink."

One of the shop customers was an elderly man who laboured to breathe as he shuffled along. Another smelled heavily of tobacco. "Not all of them," said Remus, gesturing to the fresh-faced girl manning the sandwich and meal preparation area behind a display cabinet. She smiled at Will.

The boy looked around, realised she was smiling at him, and warily returned the smile. "I'm only being polite," he said out of the side of his mouth. "I'm not getting close enough to say whether or not she stinks like the rest."

"Muggles don't bite," Remus murmured.

"That isn't what the  _Quibbler_  says," Will shot back. "Some Muggles pretend they're vampires." Green eyes narrowed. "From what I can see, that girl's got pointy canine teeth."

Remus was amused. "Some pretend they're werewolves," he said. "Don't worry. I'll protect you." He strolled forward. "Good morning. What are this week's specials?"

Even with a discount, Remus had to choose packets of beef mince, frying steak, and stewing beef over costlier cuts of brisket and steak.

Will pointed to a display of Rib eye steak. "That looks good."

_Quite expensive, too,_ Remus said, "The sirloin is a better value." He asked the girl to add three of the steaks to their order.

"Did you  _have_ to bring up price?" Will said in a low, embarrassed tone. "Why don't you announce that we're poor werewolves barely scraping a living!"

"I'm not one for dramatics," Remus said dryly, "and while I don’t mind being considered poor, I'd rather not be viewed as deranged. Muggles don't believe werewolves are real, remember?"

"Yeah." Will's smile was predatory. "Stupid and smelly. They're sheep, just like Greyback says."

Why was it that humans looked down on others to raise their own self-image? Remus had once hoped that werewolves would be less inclined to prejudice having suffered it themselves, but such was not the case. Since arguing gained nothing, Remus chose another way to get his view across. While the shop clerk totalled the order, he asked, "Are you working your way through university, Miss?"

"No," she said. "I left school at fifteen."

"Why?" asked Will, in a tone that said _How could you be so stupid?_

The girl lifted her chin. "To take care of my Gran. Will there be anything else?"

Remus handed over the required currency. "No, thank you. I hope your Gran feels better soon."

"No chance of that. She's got cancer, but Gran won't give up her ciggys."

"Sorry," Will mumbled before charging out of the shop.

When Remus walked outside, Will snapped, "I want to go home."

"We're not finished shopping."

"I am." Will's jaw was set. "I don't care about fruit and veg. Go find a greengrocer's by yourself."

"I don't know how you've avoided scurvy," said Remus. "Vitamin C is a required nutrient."

"I take vitamin tablets."

"Aside from that," Remus said, "You need to learn which fruits and vegetables are in season. Those will be the most economical. Lillie will thank you," he added when Will opened his mouth.

Frustration, anger, and finally a grudging acceptance showed on the boy's face. "Can we get strawberries? Lillie likes those."

"You're in luck. With the advent of polytunnels, Muggle-grown strawberries are in season from mid-April to mid-December."

Will rolled his eyes. "And me without parchment to write that down."

Remus opened the carry bag and reached inside for a small notebook and pen.

"What's this?" Will said, lifting the small, metal cylinder. "A Muggle quill?"

"Press the top with your thumb.”

Will seemed to enjoy the clicking sound. He pressed the button numerous times.  _Click-click, click-click, click-click!_

Remus regretted not purchasing a more expensive pen with a different mechanism. "I think you have the hang of it."

Will said, "I'd better practice to make sure."

Every step to the greengrocer's was punctuated by a  _click-click._

On the way home, Remus obliged when Will asked to stop by Delia Bowen's flat.

"If we give her the steaks, I won't be tempted to eat one," said Will.

Delia opened the door with a frown. "I didn't expect you back so soon." She looked beyond Will to Remus. "You paid for this?"

"We're flatmates," Remus said. "We share expenses."

The woman made a noise between a snort and a laugh. "The way Lillie contributes to this household, I suppose. As little as possible."

"I have no complaints."

Will threw him a look of gratitude before extending the meat wrapped in butcher's paper. "Here you are, Mrs. Bowen."

She took the steaks. "I don't complain, either. My ex is hacked off that his princess is slumming on a council estate, and I get to see Lillie now and then." Her accusing gaze focused on Will. "When she's not staying out to all hours."

The boy's smile looked sickly. "What time is dinner, Mrs. Bowen?"

"I'll expect you both at seven."

"I wasn't expecting an invitation," said Remus.

Her lips thinned. "If I thought you were, I wouldn't have invited you."

"We'll be here, Mrs. Bowen," said Will. He turned to Remus and widened his eyes meaningfully. "Won't we?"

It was impossible to decline gracefully. "Yes," he said. "Thank you for including me."

"Humph," said Delia. "Save your thanks until after dinner. I may burn your steak."

The moment the two men walked away from the flat, Will said, "Don't worry. She's not half bad at cooking. I don't think she'll burn the steak." The boy sniggered. "Not by  _accident,_ anyway."

"How reassuring."

Will took the pen out of his trouser pocket. "Want your Muggle quill back?" He grinned like a fiend as he depressed and released the top.  _Click-click, click-click!_

Remus removed the pen from cheeky hands and gave it to a child drawing with chalk on the pavement.

 

The dinner with Delia and her daughter went smoothly while everyone concentrated on their food. It was only when conversation was attempted that the mood became tense. After Delia had grilled Will on his home-schooling curriculum and received terse answers, Lillie introduced a topic that made Remus blink in surprise.

"That was your girlfriend I met, right, Lupin?"

"My partner, yes."

Lillie slanted a glance at her mother before saying, "What does your  _partner_  do?"

"She's an enquiry agent."

Delia asked, "The kind that takes pictures of cheaters?"

"She investigates insurance fraud as well."

"Sounds cool," said Will.

Remus smiled. "Her work is certainly more exciting than any of my professions have been."

"If she knows cheaters' tricks, she can use them," said Delia. "How can you be sure what's-her-name isn't cheating on you?"

Lillie rolled her eyes. "Gods, Mum, not everybody's an arsehole like Dad. Nym isn't short for Nymphomaniac." She turned to Remus, giggling. "Is it?"

"No." He looked at Delia. "I know because I trust her." To change the topic of conversation, he gave Lillie a half-smile. "I also trust that you picked up something for afters?"

She nodded. "I decided on a chocolate torte for dessert."

"Dessert, is it?” Delia ground out. “Giving yourself airs like your father?"

Lillie made a production out of rolling her eyes. "It's a  _word,_ Mum, not a bloody class distinction."

"We always said 'what's for pudding' at my house," Will said, "but I don't care what it's called as long as I get to eat it."

"Neither do I," said Remus.

Delia rose to her feet. "Very well. I'll clear the dishes, Lillie, if you'll serve...dessert."

Remus stood. "We'll help you with the dishes."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll help," said Will.

Lillie laughed. "Look at that! Mum's speechless. You two have to come to dinner more often."

Remus smiled politely, thinking he would much rather have had a beef burger in peace, and no amount of steak would entice him back.

 

 

When Tonks ran down the path to Hogsmeade, she couldn't help but think that trousers and combat boots were less than optimal running gear. She didn't care how she looked. Her concern was blisters.

Although she wasn't the type who woke raring to lace up her trainers and go for a run, Tonks exercised because it was good for her. The benefits weren't just physical. When she ran, Tonks fell into a rhythm that helped clear her mind of stress and worry. Running also made her feel in control of her body and her life. Even if the feeling only lasted for the duration of the run, it was worth the effort.

That was why she kept running, even when she felt leather rubbing against her heel. Tonks needed to be in the place where nothing mattered except the scenery around her and her only concern was putting one foot in front of the other.

Her rising endorphin level affected her mood. On impulse, she kept running after reaching the village, not stopping until she reached the Hog's Head.

Dawlish looked up in surprise when she entered his office. "Is something wrong, Auror Tonks?"

"No, sir, the school is secure." She inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly. "I ran because...I want to request permission to Floo to London after my mid-day patrol."

"Your reason?"

Merlin only knew what he'd think if she told him she needed to pick up a couple of knives before her Potions lesson with Snape. He already believed she'd used her wiles on Scrimgeour. Tonks looked down at the floor. "It's...uh...a personal appointment, sir."

Dawlish cleared his throat. "Ah. Female matters. Permission granted."

If he thought she had a gynaecological appointment, Tonks wasn't about to inform him otherwise. "Thank you, sir."

"Good day," he said brusquely, poring over a file.

She found the grumpy-looking barkeep in the pub, reading  _The Daily Prophet._ He waved his wand to send a dingy cloth winging over to polish the glasses.

"What cleaning spell do you use?" Tonks asked.

He glanced up for a moment before returning his attention to the paper. "Don't need spells. The cloth is charmed."

"Recently?"

A glass mug fell to the bar with a thud. "Are you volunteering cleaning services?"

"No, but you could use a cleaning lady," Tonks said frankly. "The place smells like goat."

"I like goats."

"You are a goat," she said beneath her breath.

"What was that?"

There was no possible way he could have heard her. Tonks said, "Nothing. I've got to go."

Halfway out the door she heard, "If I'm a goat, you're a she-wolf."

Tonks whirled around. "What was that?"

Behind his grey beard, it was impossible to tell whether the barkeep was smirking when he said, "Nothing."

 

In London, Tonks stepped out of the Diagon Alley Floo and went straight to Kitchenalia, her mother's favourite shop. Inside, she found silver knives for cheese, fruit, bread, and cake, but none suitable for making Wolfsbane Potion. At the apothecary shop down the street, the clerk said that he would be happy to special-order silver and obsidian knives. She was reaching into her bag for the Galleons to pay when the thought struck to ask about same-day delivery.

There wasn't any.

Desperate times called for dodgy measures. Tonks sent her Patronus ahead to ensure that Mundungus would answer the door when she knocked.

When she Apparated to the run-down side-street off Knockturn Alley, Tonks only had to pound on the door for a couple of minutes before her self-proclaimed "Uncle Dungie" answered.

"Do you have more locks on the door than you did the last time I visited?" Tonks asked.

"Mebbe." He shuffled into the lounge and pointed to a kettle on a side table. "Be mother, Tonksie."

She went to pour tea. "If I didn't need a favour, I'd  _Scourgify_  your mouth out, Dung. How many times do I have to tell you it's just Tonks?"

"Yer cruel to yer Uncle Dungie, but if yeh add a splash o' whisky, I'll forgive everythin'."

Tonks picked up a silver flask off the side table. "This has the Black family crest on it."

"Sirius wanted me to have it."

His baggy eyes were so doleful, she almost believed him. Tonks handed Dung a mug of tea. "I need two knives for potions making," she said. "Obsidian and silver. Got any?"

The rascal's gaze flickered to the left. "I don't deal much in knives."

"Liar," she said, pointing her wand at the trunks and crates stacked upon each other on the left side of the room. "If you want me help you search, I'll be glad to dump every one of those onto the floor."

"No, no! I might have a knife or two."

She laughed when he opened a trunk lid. "A knife or two? You have enough to open your own shop!"

"Regulations, taxes, paperwork—that's not my cup o' tea," said Dung. "I prefer to remain an independent businessman."

"You mean crook."

He caught the amusement in her voice and grinned. "Is that any way to talk to the man who's givin' yeh a family discount?"

She pointed. "Find the knives for me,  _Uncle."_

"I've knives with silver caps or silver handles, but only one I've nic—acquired is solid silver. Not much of a market for 'em." He drew a blade from a leather sheath.

Tonks could tell that the dagger was much older than its covering. There were runes on the handle, and the end was carved into a wolf's head. It wasn't a wolf from nature. It was a wolf from mythology, with a long tongue that passed between its fangs and ended at its throat. "Terrible and beautiful," she said. "I'll take it."

"The knife's antique-like. Even for family, the cost is steep."

She gave her money-grubbing  _uncle_  a steady look. "Then make me a deal on the obsidian."

"Done." All but rubbing his hands together in glee, Dung picked out three knives. He laid them upon the side table. "I won these off a bloke from Mexico. Take yer pick."

Black, brown, green-gold: which to choose? The first two had handles made of what looked like antler. The green-gold blade had a haft of wood. Tonks lifted each one and pretended to chop. The wooden handle had the best grip. It also didn't make her feel guilty thinking of James Potter's Animagus form.

"This one," she said. "It's a pretty colour."

He named a price that was a few sickles higher than she would have paid through the apothecary. It was worth it not to wait. Tonks took out her money pouch, keeping her hand on the drawstring. "No offence, but I have to cast a couple of spells to make sure these aren't Dark objects."

Mundungus held up a cloth she assumed unrolled to store knives. "Anythin' for a valued customer," he said.

"I thought I was family."

"Yer both."

She shook her head, smiling. "Thanks, Dung."

He waited until the door closed behind her to say, "Yer welcome, Tonksie!"

 

By the time of her lesson with Snape, Tonks's mood was as dark as the night sky. Remus had laughed when she had described his dinner as "cosy," but she wasn't so sure Lillie's mum didn't have her eye on him. Age, looks, and disposition aside, the woman wasn't blind. Remus was extremely fanciable.

He assured her there was no reason to "show her claws" as she put it. When she met Delia, she would feel pity, not jealousy.

When Tonks insisted that she wasn't jealous, Remus said, "Good, because I would have much rather spent my evening with you."

As she pounded on the iron-bound door of dungeon five, Tonks admitted to herself that she'd lied. She was jealous. Not of people, exactly—she was jealous of the time they spent with Remus. Time  _she_ wanted to spend with him but couldn't.

"Enter."

The chamber was empty except for a worktable and a few enchanted torches. Tonks looked at the man who was supposed to be her teacher. "I was aware this was 'bring your own blades,' but you never said to haul a cauldron and ingredients as well."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "You are not brewing a solution to cure boils. Wolfsbane Potion is of complexity that challenges the skill of apothecaries." His lip curled. "You are an Auror who has not brewed a potion since seventh year. Therefore, until you regain proficiency in basic skills, there will be no lessons." He gestured to the table. "Display your knives."

She set down the case and unfastened the straps.

"How did you come by these?" Snape asked sharply.

Crap. She had hoped he wouldn't ask. "Mundungus Fletcher."

"Hmm..." He touched the silver wolf's head. "Interesting choice."

"He didn't have one with a pretty deer on the handle. I took what he had."

Snape ran a fingertip over the runes. "Do you know the meaning of these?"

"No."

"Likely the inscription was meant to be a charm of some kind." Snape lifted the dagger and set it down. "Protection or luck."

She laughed a little. "I could use both."

"You may need both," said Snape, reaching for the obsidian knife. "There was no provenance for these items, correct?"

"Yeah—I mean no. He said he got it off a bloke from Mexico."

"Naturally. It is a prismatic blade."

"A  _what?"_

He flashed an impatient look. "A specialised lithic flake—" He broke off at her blank stare. Exhaling sharply, he said, "Twice as long as it is wide, thin, sharp, often used in ritualised sacrifice."

"Human sacrifice? Impossible. I checked the blade. It isn't a Dark object."

"Human sacrifice was considered worship, not Dark." Snape waved his wand over the knife. Nothing happened.

She asked, "Was there supposed to be a flash?"

"Only if the blade had taken human life. Sacrifice of animals or autosacrifice—bloodletting—may have been its function." He contemplated the knife, saying, "Perhaps you should trade this knife for another. I have a black—"

"—no thanks, I like the colour, and the history doesn't bother me."

For an instant, the expression on Snape's face reminded her of Cousin Lora when she was ten and Tonks wouldn't trade marbles. His features smoothed into inscrutability. "Very well. In light of your own  _history,_ if you decide to reconsider . . .."

What an arse, implying that the blood magic she'd done to be with Remus on full moons was the same as autosacrifice! Did he think she should give up the blade so it wouldn't remind her of what she'd done, or because she'd be tempted to work more blood magic? Either way, Tonks felt like giving Snape something: a hex. It was a struggle to say civilly, "I'll keep you in mind."

He inclined his head. "Take your knives to the kitchen. A House-elf will instruct you."

The elf was Kreacher. She was struck by the black humour of the situation, even if she didn't appreciate it. "Did you draw the short straw, or was this Snape's idea?"

"Professor Snape requested Kreacher's assistance." He gasped when she unrolled the knives. "The green obsidian is beautiful."

Her eyes fell to pale scars on his forearms. Ah, hell. Was it the colour that attracted him, or was he drawn because of his history of bloodletting worship to his personal goddess, Mrs. Black? Tonks couldn't tell and didn't want to know. She said, "Show me how to use it."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Butcher shops, the use of obsidian in Mesoamerica, and a late 8th century AD silver knife mount found in the Thames and displayed at the British Museum aren't usually grouped together, heh, but in the wizarding world anything can happen. ;)


	8. Moonlit Waiting

 

 

Snape was going to kill her.

Tonks trudged toward the school, trying to think of something, anything, except a sardonic professor's likely reaction to what she was going to tell him. She glanced up. Although the moon was not yet visible, she could feel it. Instead of giving off rays of warmth like the sun, the moon felt like a cool draft wafting across the nape of her neck. It made the hairs stand on end. Whether it was due to fancy or her bond with Remus, the sensation was eerie.

She stumbled on a rock. A kick sent the stone crashing into the underbrush. Tonks continued down the path, wondering why she was so clumsy. Whether on a rock or her own tongue, she was always tripping over something.

Unable to help it, her mind replayed events that had begun as a simple notification that off-duty hours would be spent away from the village. The whole mess was really Proudfoot's fault. He and Dawlish had been playing chess when she came into the office midafternoon to give notice of her plans. Her superior, concentrating on his next move, listened with half an ear before nodding his approval. It was the usually quiet, non-officious man who ruined her getaway.

_"Where are you going?" asked Proudfoot._

_A little voice in the back of her mind warned her not to tell. She said the first thing that popped into her head. "Up to the castle."_

_The two Aurors exchanged a look that set her teeth on edge. Tonks wished that she'd said she was going to visit her parents or friends in London, because they obviously thought they'd caught her in something._

_"More lessons with Snape?” Proudfoot asked. When her eyes widened, he chuckled. "House-elves make the best informants."_

_She smiled as though amused. "Did you give them Butterbeer?"_

_"No need. They were happy to talk."_

_Wasn't there a saying that no good deed went unpunished? She was being paid back for saving Kreacher's tea towel. Tonks kept a smile on her face. "Yes, that's right. More lessons."_

_Dawlish studied her expression the way he had studied the chessboard. "What sort of lessons take all night to learn, Auror Tonks?"_

_His voice didn't have a suggestive inflection. It didn't need to. She flushed with anger. "Potions lessons, sir."_

_Proudfoot asked, "Isn't tonight a full moon?"_

_Was he trying to bring up Remus? She took his statement at face value. "Yes. There are loads of ingredients to be harvested on a full moon."_

_Dawlish's eyebrows rose. "Name one."_

_"Boletophagus reticulatus," said Tonks. Mentally, she crossed fingers that he wouldn't ask for another example. Her Latin was a motley jumble of spells and love words. If she tried to make a name up, it would probably translate into something bizarrely kinky._

_The men had another moment of silent communication. It reminded her of the times she and Jerry Connelly had done the same when working a case. A lifted eyebrow often meant: Do you believe the story? A slight smile could translate to: I can't find a hole in it so we have to give her the benefit of the doubt. Or so she hoped._

_"If we need to contact you?" Dawlish asked._

_Tonks said, "Send an owl."_

_"Why not a Patronus?"_

_Proudfoot was becoming her least favourite person with his inconvenient questions. She said, "Whatever you prefer."_

The memory of the look in Dawlish's eyes when he'd dismissed her made Tonks long to kick the gates to Hogwarts open. He was going manufacture some reason to check up on her. She knew it. He didn't trust her, the bastard. A shove with the heels of her palms sent the gate swinging wide. She broke into a jog.

Snape wasn't in his office. Reluctantly, she headed for his private quarters.

After five minutes of slamming her fist against heavy oak, shouting, "Hey, Snape! It's Tonks. I need to talk to you! C'mon, open up!" he finally condescended to answer the door.

"Yes?"

She refused to let his frostiness put her off. "I need to talk to you."

"I heard."

"In  _private,"_ she said.

He curled his lip. "I expect no visitors."

Tonks huffed. "Fine. I need—"

"Severus! There you are!" a woman's voice called.

Tonks muttered, "No visitors, huh?" before turning to wave.

The mediwitch halted with an expression of great surprise, "My heavens! I—I didn't expect you to have company, Severus. I—I hope I'm not intruding."

_I—I bet you hope you are._ Tonks had never thought about it before, but Pomfrey wasn't  _that_ much older than Snape, and there weren't many wizards under fifty teaching at Hogwarts. Professor Snarky probably got chatted up by female staff on a regular basis. She tried not to smile, but the idea was hilarious. "Wotcher, Madam Pomfrey," she said with a grin.

"Oh, it's you, is it? I expect you've been consulting with the Professor about school security?"

_And now you can run along_  was implied. The dismissive tone rubbed Tonks the wrong way. Poppy Pomfrey might order people around in the hospital wing, but she had no authority elsewhere. "No, I'm off duty," Tonks said brightly.

"Off—"

Tonks looked at Snape. "I expect she wants to consult with you about potions for the hospital cupboard," she said as though she didn't hear Pomfrey's sputtering. "Don't mind me, Severus. I'll go fix a drink while I wait."

Since Snape didn't protest when she boldly opened the door, Tonks took that as permission to slip inside the chamber.

The chair he’d conjured on her last visit remained at one end of the centre table. A crystal decanter filled with an amber liquid and a couple of tumblers on a silver tray rested on top of the polished mahogany. She picked up a glass. Had Snape intended on asking her in and then changed his mind? Merlin, he was such an anti-social bat.

She cast a spell to fill the tumbler with water. Tonks took a sip before wandering over to a bookcase, glass in hand. Some of the texts looked really old. She ran a fingertip down the spine of a book bound in red leather.  _Venenum._

"Looking for a love potion?"

Tonks jumped, splashing her drink onto herself and the book she was bending to look at. "Shit!"

" _Siccus_."

She watched the book and her clothes become dry. "Handy spell."

"You would do well to learn it." Snape poured himself a drink.

Tonks made a face. "Believe me, I now have it memorised." When he continued to observe her in silence, she said, "I thought it might be book on venomous snakes."

"You have an interest in reptiles?"

What did that mean? Was he asking if she was there to chat him up? "No!" she said vehemently. Afraid that she had offended, Tonks rushed to add, "Not that there's anything wrong with snakes. I'm into warm-blooded animals, but reptiles are cool, literally, ha-ha." His lack of reaction prompted her to admit, "I just liked the red leather. I have a dress that—you don't want to hear about." She stopped babbling. If the floor was ever going to open up and swallow her, this would be a good time.

Snape sat in his black leather chair. He flicked his fingers toward the other seat. "Why are you here?"

Tonks took a deep, calming breath. "I need your help."

"Explain."

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. After a pause, Tonks said, "You can read lips, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I rather you...erm...saw for yourself." She leaned toward him. "Look for memories of Dawlish and Proudfoot."

Snape's lips twitched at one corner. "No widening of the eyes is necessary."

"That's good, because there's a draft in here, and my eyeballs were starting to feel dry and—I'll shut up now." Tonks bit her lip and tried to relax. This was much better than trying to explain with words. It was. Images began to flash against her mind's eye. She relived her interview with the Aurors, her trek up to the castle, and her irritation with Madam Pomfrey.

"Why didn't you tell Dawlish that you were going to see Lupin?"

Snape's quiet voice lulled her into answering, "I don't trust him."

"You trust me?"

He was looking at her with a detached, scientific air. Tonks felt like a bug scrutinised for possible use in a potion. "Yeah," she said. "Even if you hadn't saved me in the forest, when it comes to the Order, I trust you. Remus's mission has to be kept secret." She tried to smile. It came out lopsided. "Aside from Dumbledore, I bet nobody keeps secrets better than you."

Snape poured himself another drink. "Although Pomfrey is not known for gossip, she is certain to inform McGonagall—and perhaps others—of what she termed our  _liaison_."

Tonks asked, "Will that bother you?"

"No. You?"

She shrugged. "Let them talk. I'm sure Dawlish will  _inform_ others, too, but I only care about Remus's safety."

He refilled her glass with water. "How will I contact you in Salford if Dawlish sends an owl or Patronus to the castle?"

She reached into a pocket. It was a wrench to slide the Melusine Mirror across the table.

"Lupin carries the matching communication mirror?"

"Yes."

Snape drank Firewhisky while she sipped water. His spell made the water colder than hers had. Did that mean the rumour that ice water ran in his veins was true?

Her slight smile faded when he said, "My...assistance...comes at a price."

Tonks reached for the mirror. "You can't have it. That's my only way to talk to Remus. I need it, I—"

Snape held up his hand. "Not the mirror. The obsidian knife."

She  _knew_ it! There was something about that knife. First, he’d wanted to make a trade, and now he was demanding it in payment. Tonks said, "OK, but I get to choose which one of your knives I want, and I'm not trading until after I learn to make Wolfsbane Potion."  _I'm not trading it until after I find out why you want it._

A gleam of some indefinable emotion flashed in Snape's eyes. He inclined his head. "Agreed." He stood. "There is a connection to the Floo Network in my office. I will alter the wards to enable you to use it."

Tonks almost stuck out her hand, but decided against it. She said, "Thank you, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Formality is no longer an option. Call me Severus, Nymphadora."

 

 

When  _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_ and  _Magical Theory_  arrived by owl post that morning, Remus sat in the lounge and began to skim the texts. He soon regretted not taking the books to his room. The moment Will came home from spending the night at Lillie's, he saw the schoolbooks and immediately asked for a lesson.

"Not yet," Remus replied.

He was given a half hour of peace while Will cleaned the owl cage and took a shower. As soon as the boy had eaten the breakfast of eggs and bacon Remus had saved him, he asked, "Got a lesson planned for me?"

Remus explained that the day of the full moon was not an auspicious time for an unschooled werewolf to begin learning magic. "The peak of the lunar phase is a time when emotions run high and aggression is easily provoked," he said. "Attempting magic is not a good idea until the moon begins to wane."

Will stormed out of the house. He returned an hour later. "I took a long walk. I'm relaxed, not tense. I'm ready to learn."

"It isn't that simple," Remus said. "The first attempts at spell casting are often frustrating—"

"—bullshit!" snapped Will. He thrust out his jaw when Remus repeated his reasoning for delaying the first lesson. "More bullshit. Admit it. You can't be arsed because you'd rather read about magic than teach it!"

He stomped upstairs and slammed the door, closing himself off with Stryx for over four hours. Upon his return to the lounge, Will said around a yawn, "I tried clearing my mind of negative thoughts and fell asleep." He grinned. "Proves I did a stellar job." The boy stretched out on a futon. "Whenever you're ready to teach, I'll be here, waiting to learn."

Will rivalled Sirius Black in stubborn persistence. "There will be no lesson today." Remus struggled to keep his voice level. "I told you. The situation is too volatile."

"Not any longer," said Will. "I've let go of hostility. Really. I'm one with the universe or whatever. Try me and see. I won't get frustrated or take a swing at you, no matter what."

Remus shook his head. "Why am I not reassured?"

"Because you're an old woman?"

How many times had Sirius accused him of that? Remus gave Will the same reply. "Sensible? I thank you for the compliment."

"It wasn't a compliment," said Will, "It was—"

"Sexism and ageism you should be ashamed of? I agree."

A wary look flashed in green eyes. "I didn't mean—"

Remus cut Will off again. "To denigrate the strength and wisdom of  _old women_?" He thought of Tonks's Gran and felt his temper rise. "I hope not, for your sake."

Will’s eyes flashed. "Why's that? You'll hex me?" In a mercurial shift, he laughed. "Or box my ears like Granny Ogg used to?"

"I won't teach you tomorrow, either," said Remus.

"Ah, hell, don't say that. It was only an expression. I'll try not to use it again."

How many times had Sirius made similar promises?

_Might as well try to count the bottles of beer I've pissed away, mate,_ Remus could "hear" his friend say laughingly.  _A promise made under duress isn't binding, you know._

Remus knew that very well. He sighed and made a decision. "All right. We'll try an experiment—not a lesson," he said when Will crowed triumphantly. "An experiment to assess your ability to focus."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you want to call it." Will sat on the edge of the futon opposite Remus, hands on his knees. "I'm ready."

"I could start with something out of the first-year curriculum, but I think an adult mind, even untrained, should be capable of more advanced spellwork." Remus held out his hand toward a side table. " _Accio_  quill." The feather on the surface instantly floated toward him. Remus plucked the quill out of the air and replaced it, nodding for Will to attempt the Summoning Charm.

The boy's brow furrowed in concentration. " _Accio_ quill!"

Nothing happened. Will extended his hand toward the feather. " _Accio quill!"_

"Did you see it twitch?" he asked, hope threading his voice.

"There was a slight breeze from the open window," said Remus.

Will tried again and failed, several times. He filled the air with curses.

"Concentrate," Remus said sternly. Sympathy was the last thing Will needed. The boy was already prone to allowing self-pity to manifest into self-defeating behaviour. "Magic is like air. It's all around you. For a wizard, it is an energy waiting to be harnessed."

"Maybe I'm a Squib."

"Maybe you are."

Remus's level tone made Will's eyes blaze with fury. "I thought you were different, but you're just like my father! You don't think I can do it. You want me to fail!" He stabbed a finger toward the feather, yelling, " _Accio bloody quill!"_

It was a toss-up who was more shocked when the feather zoomed like a tiny arrow to bury its tip into Will's hand.

While Remus stared, his pupil began to howl with laughter. "Look at that! A  _bloody_ quill!" He held up his palm for his teacher to see the blood starting to pool. "Be careful with magic, eh? Damned well gave me exactly what I asked for!"

"Yes, indeed." Remus pulled out the quill, performing a Healing Charm to stop the bleeding.

"Thanks," said Will. He ducked his head. "I mean it for...everything...all right?"

"You're welcome." Remus smiled. "However, seeing the result of your first spell, I must advise against summoning blunt objects." He waited until Will stopped sniggering to say, "I also advise you not to attempt too many Summoning Charms. I once had a friend who was forced to rely on wandless magic. The prolonged strain led to blinding headaches."

"Don't worry. I won't strain anything. Lillie would be the one to hex me if I told her I had a headache." Will's face lit up. "I've got to tell her what happened!" He bounded to the door. "See you later, professor!"

Remus looked at the clock. There were still hours to kill before Nymphadora would arrive. He decided to take a long walk, hoping it would release some of the tension building inside him. Without Wolfsbane his nerves felt tightly strung. Emotions were heightened. Man and werewolf were united in their restless need for their mate. It was a disturbing feeling.

He ended up at The Quays. The former docks had jetties installed, yet nothing was moored there. Only a ferry currently traversed the waters. In news articles, Remus read that city planners envisioned developing the waterfront until it bustled like Shanghai. He didn't see that happening in the near future. The Muggle economy didn't seem strong enough to support it.

Remus turned his eyes from uninspiring architecture to the sight that always inspired. He would never swim in the canal, but the view was magnificent. He stood watching the sunlight sparkle on the water until his stomach rumbled. With a sigh, he retraced his steps.

He found Will sprawled on a futon littered with quills, parchment, newspapers and various kitchen implements. The boy groaned, rubbing the heels of his palms against his temples. "I may have cast one Summoning Charm too many."

Remus went upstairs and fetched a headache potion.

"Won't you need this for tomorrow?" Will asked.

"I have others."

Will drank the potion in two swallows. "Must be nice to have a rich girlfriend."

"I don't think of her that way."

"No need to growl. I wish Lillie had stuck with her mediwitch program. She deserves to live better than this." Will snorted. "Everyone does."

In the silence that fell, Remus's stomach gurgled audibly.

Will laughed. "That kind of growling I can relate to. Is there anything left to eat in this place?"

Remus headed to the kitchen. "I saved a packet of minced beef." He put a skillet on the stove, formed two huge burgers, and placed them in the pan.

"I want mine rare," said Will, drawing in the scent in the way others might use for a bouquet of roses.

After flipping the burgers, Remus waited a minute before removing them from the skillet. "How's this?"

"Bleedin' perfect," sighed Will.

Remus eyed the red seeping from his meat and heartily agreed.

The satisfaction of one hunger held another at bay until the afternoon shadows began to lengthen. Pacing the confines of his room, Remus began to fear that Nymphadora had been refused leave. Worry gnawed at his nerves. He resisted the urge to use the communication mirror until his internal clock warned that he would soon have to enter the safe room.

"Nymphadora," he called softly, cradling the mirror in both hands. His face continued to be the only one reflected. Remus didn't know what to think. "Nymphadora," he said. "Anyone."

He almost dropped the mirror when a man's face appeared. "Where's Nymphadora, Snape?"

"Using the Floo in my office. She gave me the mirror in case Dawlish attempts to contact her."

Remus forced himself to concentrate. "She told Dawlish—"

"That she is spending the night at the castle. Correct. Nymphadora feared if her superior knew she was in Salford, he would endanger your  _mission."_ The last word was accompanied by a sneer.

Remus winced. It wasn't due to the thinly-veiled contempt. He was used to that, and refused to let Snape's fear-driven animosity goad him. The flinch was due to the ghostly howls ringing in his ears. It was as though the beast inside was trying to announce his presence and warn away a potential threat. The noise was almost deafening. "I have to go," he muttered. "I'll bring the mirror with me."

"Lupin!"

Remus broke the connection. Let Snape think what he liked. He cared only about getting to the safe room in time.

Will was at the top of the stairs. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, following as Remus staggered toward the bedroom divided into padded cages for werewolves.

"I have to fasten my restraints before it's too late," Remus said hoarsely. "I'm going to turn. I can feel it." He shut the door in Will's bewildered face.

"But it's not time!" Remus could hear Will say as the boy settled into his cell-like room next door. The chamber was soundproofed from the outside, not within. "I don't turn until the moonlight comes in the window."

Remus set aside the mirror and stepped into the containment circle drawn on the floor. He had barely fastened the last shackle when his body and mind succumbed to what some called Dark magic and others a curse.

 

 

 


	9. Waiting to Howl

 

 

_The wolf struggled against the bonds holding him captive, growling deep in his throat. The strange cave he was imprisoned in smelled of another wolf. Although the scent was faint, instinct demanded he hunt down any possible threat to his pack._

_He writhed and twisted, claws scrabbling as he tried to break free. Panting, the wolf lifted his head to search for his mate. She was nowhere in sight. He was alone in a place that reeked of dead wood._

_He whined mournfully._

_A clicking sound brought his head up. Something was entering the cave! His muscles bunched in preparation to repel an attack._

_The low, soft noises made by the intruder were familiar. The wolf had heard them before. Warily, he tracked the movements of the animal that walked upright like a bear. When it dropped down to all fours, he sniffed the air for its scent. Recognition stirred, along with memory._

Snow covered the forest except within an unnatural circle of grass and flowers. The wolf stared into ring, unable to comprehend why his mate had leapt inside and vanished. The human lying on the ground held out a paw. He drew in her scent and remembered that hairless paw covered in blood, remembered human eyes transforming into those of a wolf. Somehow, he knew his mate had taken another shape. Slowly, he stepped through the ring of ferns to join her.

_The tension left his body. Secure in the knowledge that his mate would soon resume her true form, he waited quietly for her to crawl into the chalk circle._

_She gazed into his eyes and he was suddenly free, lying on a bed of leaves in a small forest clearing. The wolf did not question how he had come to be there. It was enough that his mate was at his side. She licked his muzzle. He allowed her to groom him, relishing the affection. It wasn't until he began to groom her in return that he recalled the rage he had felt and the scent in the cave of dead wood._

_The wolf lifted his nose into the wind. There was no trace of another wolf entering his territory. He sniffed his mate's fur. The only scent she carried was his._

_He sneezed when her wagging tail tickled his nose. She looked back at him over her shoulder. The tilt of her ears matched the question in her eyes. What did he want to do? Play or hunt?_

_In answer, he bounded past her, plunging through the undergrowth to race into the forest._

_After the first rush of speed, he slowed to a trot, tail held horizontal to signal his mate to stay alert. She was young and easily distracted by tiny rustlings in the vegetation alongside the path._

_A clucking noise brought the wolf to a standstill. He recognised the nesting sound of the large bird found near human dens. He also remembered the taste of its flesh. A glance back at his mate showed that her ears were up, her tail wagging in anticipation. He wagged his tail once and then padded forward._

_Focused on the hunt, the wolf moved quickly. Only when he neared was the fowl alerted to danger. He rushed forward, but instead of trying to flee, the prey did something shocking: it breathed fire._

_Heat scorched the wolf's foreleg. He yelped in pain, instinctively sinking to the ground as his mate leapt past him. A squawk was cut off by a snapping sound._

_His mate stood before him, carrying the fowl by its broken neck. She appeared excited and uncertain. It was as though she did not know what to do with the prey animal. When she dropped it beside him, he nudged the underbelly. She continued to watch him like a curious pup._

_His leg hurt and he was hungry. The wolf snarled._

_His mate whimpered._

_He understood that she thought he needed the meat more, so he should eat first. That was the way of the pack. He lowered his head, using teeth to rip through feathers and skin to reach organs and flesh. When hunger was appeased, he nudged the carcass toward his mate._

_She sniffed it._

_He lifted his lip to bare his teeth. It was her turn to eat!_

_She crouched submissively, tearing off a small portion of meat. After the first bite she took another, larger one._

_Comfortably full, the wolf led the way out of the forest, stopping at a stream. The icy cold water soothed his burns. His mate walked in to stand beside him as she drank, pressing her coat to his. Gently, she bit his muzzle. He nipped hers in return._

_Once his leg felt healed enough to make the climb, they returned to the cave hidden behind a fall of rocks. He stretched out, examining his injury. A round patch of fur had been burnt away. The reddened skin throbbed dully._

_His mate began to groom him, taking his mind off the pain in his foreleg. She nibbled his coat, removing bits of leaf and dirt. Even after he was clean, she continued grooming. He grumbled appreciatively when her teeth tickled his chest, moving over his fur in a way that prompted him to roll onto his side to give her better access. She made a throat-scratching sound of contentment, nibbling the sensitive area between his front legs. He echoed the sound, allowing heavy eyes to close._

Remus awoke at sunrise.  _In the cave of dead wood._ He pushed aside magical shackles that had bound him during the change.

Beside him, Nymphadora yawned. "Good morning," she said, tilting her head to smile into his eyes. "Did the encounter with the fire-breathing chicken really happen?"

"Yes. Fifth year. Afterwards, Padfoot and Prongs led me to a stream to cool my burns."

She sat up. "You sound funny. Are you upset that I killed it?"

Remus put his finger to his lips. "Only the outer walls are soundproofed." He rose and extended a hand, pulling Nymphadora to her feet. "Let's go to my room."

She bent to pick up the Melusine Mirror on the way out. "I left mine with—"

"I know. I spoke with him," Remus said curtly. He didn't want to hurt his love's feelings, but this wasn't the place to have a conversation. In his bedroom, he found potions waiting on the dresser. "Thank you," he said, reaching for the first flagon.

Nymphadora sidled up to him. She waited until he had finished the Strengthening Solution and Morning After Potion to ask, "Are you upset about Snape, the chicken, or both?"

He chose his words carefully. "You trusted Snape for the same reason your wolf killed the chicken. I understand the instinct to protect." He paused. "What I want to know is why you ate it."

"Instinct."

Remus shook his head. "No, it wasn't. I was there. You hesitated. You didn't want to eat, but you did—why?"

Her eyes were big and pleading. "You wanted me to."

"No, I didn't. The wolf did."

"You were the wolf," she said, "and I was a wolf too. Wolves eat what they kill. There's nothing wrong with that."

Remus said, "It isn't that you ate the chicken. It's that you did it because the wolf wanted you to."  _The wolf that was strong enough to force the change at moonrise. The wolf that understands his mate has a human form._

Nymphadora's expression shifted in a way that made him uncomfortable. "Are you jealous?" she asked. "Don't be. There are limits to what my wolf will do for yours, but there's nothing I won't do for you." She slid her arms around his neck. "Just tell me what you want."

He kissed her in hunger, passion, and as much as Remus loathed admitting it: jealousy. His hands traced her curves possessively. Territorial as a wolf, he thought with a trace of bitterness. Nymphadora's sigh made him determined to rise above animal need. "The wolf took everything you offered," he said. "I want to give." He brushed kisses over her face while he unbuttoned her blouse.

"No." She turned her head so his lips would graze her mouth. "You're too tired. Let me help." Her hands reached for his shirt.

He gently stopped her fingers from unfastening his top button. "I'll sleep when you return to Hogsmeade." Remus kissed Nymphadora softly but firmly. "Right now," he murmured in her ear, "I'm going to give you pleasure." He traced her ear with the tip of his tongue.

She shivered. "If this is what you really want."

He turned his attention to the graceful column of her throat. "It is," he said between kisses.

Nymphadora clutched his shoulders. "I hope you want to get naked too."

Remus chuckled. "I will. Eventually."

 

Later, Tonks was wishing she could take a day of personal leave when Remus sleepily asked, "Did you just say 'Lupin'?"

"No." Her brain abruptly jolted into alertness. "The mirror!"

She scrambled across Remus to snatch it from the bedside table. "Snape? What's wrong?"

Even in a mirror he managed to look down his nose at her. "Dawlish owled. There has been a change in schedule. You now have morning patrol."

Tonks looked at the clock. It was a quarter to eight. The Knight Bus would never get her to Hogsmeade by nine! She grabbed her hair in a fist. "Shit! There are no Floos open and I can't Apparate long distances! What the bloody hell am I going to do?"

"You should have considered that before you left."

She flashed a vulgar hand gesture where Snape couldn't see it, tempted to say, "Guess how many fingers I'm holding up?" Instead, she said, "Yeah, I should have, but I didn't. Now what?"

Remus placed his hand on her arm, rubbing it soothingly. "We need to find a way to get you to Hogsmeade." He took the mirror. "Severus, do you know of any public Floos near Salford?"

Snape curled his lip. "Fortunately for you, yes. Manchester has a central Floo station."

Tonks leaned over to look into the mirror. "Then I'll owl for a Squire Cab. See you." When the mirrored glass showed her reflection, she smiled at Remus. "They're fast. I'll make it."

"I'll send the owl while you dress." He gestured to the clothes draped over a chair.

"You're so tidy," she said, unfolding her panties. "I admire that, but last night it almost drove me mad."

Although his back was to her as he wrote a note to the Squire Cab Company, she could hear the smile in his voice. "Anticipation is supposed to heighten pleasure."

"Oh yeah?" She teetered on one foot and then the other while she pulled on her boots.

Remus sent the owl on its way. "Didn't it?" he asked, a wolfish gleam in his eye.

Tonks tried and failed not to grin. "Oh yeah!"

After several kisses and a promise to mirror later, she hurried downstairs. "Bye, Will!" she said to the boy sprawled face down across a futon.

He grunted.

She said with extra cheeriness, "Have a nice day!"

A white and black Squire Cab idled at the curb. She jumped in, bracing one hand against the back of the seat in front of her. The vehicle jerked into motion.

It didn't take long to reach the station. Tonks stepped out of the fireplace in Snape's office with thirty minutes to spare. It was a surprise not to see a malevolent bat perched behind his desk, glowering, but she was too happy to see the mirror resting on dark wood to care.

The true shock came when she reached for the door handle. It almost burnt, it was so hot. She pulled her fingers back. What was going on? A jinx to keep someone  _inside_ the office made no sense, unless it something Snape was working on for the new school term; keeping students trapped in detention literally. Tonks wouldn't put it past him. He could be such a git. Shaking her head, she cast a Freezing Charm and yanked the door open.

Pomfrey and Snape stood in the corridor. The mediwitch halted her stream of chatter to gasp, "Miss Tonks!"

"Madam Pomfrey." Tonks looked at Snape. He stood, lips pursed, clearly blaming her for the farcical situation they were in. She smiled at Pomfrey. "Nice to see you. I have to leave for patrol or I'd—"

"Did you say  _leave?"_ The woman's narrowed gaze raked Tonks over. Her nostrils flared.

_Guess she's noticed I'm still wearing the clothes I had on last night._ Tonks waited for Snape to say something to help her out. He remained silent. At that moment, Tonks envied a mutant chicken's ability to breathe fire. "Yes," she said.

An awkward silence stretched. Tonks edged closer to Snape. "You could have written a note," she said. "It would have made certain things a whole lot easier."

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "I will speak with you later, Severus, when  _certain things_ do not distract."

Me-ow!Tonks thought, reluctantly amused. She said, "No. Please stay. Really. I have to leave. Duty calls and all that rot." She started walking before she finished speaking. The second she rounded a corner, Tonks broke into a jog.

_No running in the corridors!_

She could almost hear the voices of prefects echoing off the stones. A smile crossed her face. She wasn't a student anymore.

Tonks kept a brisk pace until she reached the gates to the school. She had a decision to make. Either she Apparated to The Broomsticks and took a hurried shower, or Summoned her broom and enjoyed a proper bath afterwards.

She used a Summoning Charm and finished her patrol in record time.

After a long, hot bath, Tonks wandered downstairs, intending to order a sandwich and a Butterbeer in the pub. She found Dawlish at the bar, sipping a clear drink, while Rosmerta polished a glass with a tea towel.

Her superior looked up with a frown.

Rosmerta smiled. "Good morning. May I get you something, Tonks?"

"If the kitchen's open, I'd love a sandwich."

"It's close enough to lunch. Ham and salad fine?"

"Sure." Tonks sat on a stool. "I'll drink whatever he's having."

Rosmerta slanted a teasing look at the man watching intently. "Should I give her vodka, Adam?"

_Adam? Rosmerta's flirting with Dawlish, calling him Adam—and he's practically smiling?_ Only Snape returning Pomfrey's interest would have been more disturbing...or comical. Tonks fought back giggles at the thought of the two odd couples on a double date.

"I'm drinking Gillywater," said Dawlish.

Tonks made a face. The stuff had a gritty aftertaste that made her think of sandy gillyweed roots. "In that case I'll have a Butterbeer."

When Rosmerta left the room, Dawlish's expression hardened. "When I send an owl I expect one in return."

Even when no reply was needed or requested? Cousin Lora had a word for that: micromanagement. Tonks didn't think her boss would value learning Muggle terminology, so she said, "Yes, sir."

He stood. "There will be a noon meeting to address security for the returning students. Don't be late."

She checked her watch. There went her plans for a nap. "Yes, sir."  _You micromanaging bastard, sir!_

Dawlish glanced toward the kitchen corridor—hoping the lovely barkeep would appear? After a few seconds, he gave a sharp nod and marched away.

Tonks thought her appetite was ruined until Rosmerta placed an enormous sandwich before her. She wolfed it down.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost put a reminder at the beginning that in the story before this Tonks used blood magic to be with Remus without Wolfsbane Potion, but I figured readers have good memories, and I could invite anyone who didn't remember or didn't read Moonlight and Shadow to do so at the end (which I guess I just did. :D) The fire-breathing chicken Harry saw at the Ministry seemed like something Hagrid would buy off a bloke at the Hog's Head, try to domesticate it, and then be sad when it singed his beard and escaped to the Forbidden Forest and cross paths with a werewolf.


	10. Waiting on a Friend

 

 

The makeshift Auror Office was probably the cleanest room in the Hog's Head. It was still a dump. The walls and floorboards were dull grey, bare of any decoration. A coat of paint would have greatly improved the space, but a pleasant work environment wasn't a priority to Dawlish. He made it clear that his—and their—sole focus would be security. Students would arrive in three days' time. As of that day, patrols were to be doubled, and no personal leave would be granted during the first month of school.

Tonks stared at the wall-sized map of Hogsmeade and its surroundings. Was she the only one in the room with a life?

She glanced at her colleagues. Proudfoot, thin and pale, spent his free time playing chess or holed up in his room, reading. Savage lived in the pubs. Neither showed any reluctance to be on call for the next month. They were nodding in agreement. Fabulous. It was up to her to be the lone voice of dissension.

"Sir?" she asked, doing her best to sound respectful. "With Anti-intruder jinxes and all the other castle security measures in place, isn't this...excessive?"

Dawlish said grimly, "The Ministry directive is clear. Student safety will be guaranteed at all cost. Is that understood?"

Tonks was the only one not to answer, "Yes, sir!"

She said, "If they really meant that, we'd have a fifth Auror stationed here to—"

"Personal cost, not taxpayer Galleons," Dawlish cut in.

She refused to back down. "If the Office doesn't authorise spending a few Galleons, we'll be the ones paying the price for sleep deprivation, and the cost might be higher than they can afford." Tonks shook her head. "I don't believe this. I was  _told_ we'd have more help."

"I declined it."

Tonks stared at Dawlish. "Why?"

"Headquarters needs every Auror available."

"Bollocks."

Proudfoot reacted before Dawlish. "That's uncalled for. You aren't the team leader. You don't make the decisions."

She never took her eyes off the man facing them across the desk. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. Team members should provide input on decisions affecting their wellbeing."

Savage said derisively, "If you get tired, have Snape brew a potion."

"We need the extra manpower," she said, ignoring the taunt. It wasn't a shock that Savage knew about her visits to the castle. Tonks wasn't naive. Men gossiped every bit as much as women.

Dawlish said, "My decision stands."

_Oh yeah?_ She wasn't foolish enough to say it aloud.

Her boss wasn't pacified by her silence. He braced his hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Are you challenging my authority?"

"No, sir." Elbows on the arms of her chair, Tonks threaded her fingers together. "I would never speak against you, sir."  _But I'm going to write to someone with the power to reverse your decision, and there's nothing you can do about it!_

Glacial blue eyes thawed slightly. "Very well."

The words triggered a memory.

_The other Aurors had left Scrimgeour's office after being apprised of the Hogsmeade mission. Tonks stayed behind to ask if her work as the future Minister's bodyguard was the reason she was included_.  _When he admitted that it was, she said, "Fine, but Jerry Connelly gets a transfer too. I want somebody to play darts with when I'm stuck in a twee village in the middle of nowhere."_

_Scrimgeour gave a bark of laughter. "Very well."_

Tonks almost smiled when Dawlish asked her to stay behind when the others filed out of the room. "Should I leave the door open? I wouldn't want to cause any more rumours. There are enough already."

He didn't deny it or tell her to shut the door. "Savage heard talk in the pub and reported it to me. I never shared information concerning your whereabouts."

_Bet you judged me on them, though._ "Ta, thanks." She made to leave.

"Auror Tonks."

She glanced back over her shoulder. "Yes, sir?"

"I have been an Auror for twenty-five years. If you owl the Minister, I will know about it before the message crosses his desk."

Did he think that would intimidate her? Tonks widened her eyes. "You haven't been chatting up Scrimgeour's personal assistant, have you? Lucy Tinsley's going with Martin Canterbury, and he's...well... _possessive."_

Dawlish said tightly, "I refuse to dignify that remark. You're dismissed."

Had she offended his moralistic sensibilities? Good! Tonks strode out of the room.

In the pub, the barkeep scowled when she asked for parchment and a quill. "Do I look like I have pen friends?"

Tonks said brightly, "Never too late to start."

Was there a glint of humour in the man's blue eyes? It was hard to tell. He really needed to trim his eyebrows. In silence, he bent to retrieve a piece of parchment and a dingy white turkey feather quill.

She tried to joke, "Don't s'ppose this is a Spell-Check?"

"It has ink."

"So it does. Thank you," she said, scratching out her letter.

**Q,**

**I hope you and Mrs. Stevens are both well. I would owl the boss directly, but the post isn't secure these days, so I'm asking you to do me the favour of passing along a message.**

**I'm still waiting for a certain Auror to be assigned to Hogsmeade. Despite reports, we need the manpower.**

**Thank you for helping me, in the past and in the present.**

**L**

She folded the parchment to create its own envelope and asked the barkeep, "May I have a bottle of Butterbeer and some sealing wax?"

He raised a brow over the Galleons she placed on the bar. "I don't serve imported Butterbeer."

And he wasn’t charging for the parchment and wax? Maybe he wasn’t half-bad, at that. Tonks used the Butterbeer cap to seal the wax, pocketing the change with a smile. "Thanks again."

She discovered Savage loitering outside the pub. He fell into step with her as she walked. "Where are you going, Tonks?"

"The Owl Post Office."

"I don't believe it."

Tonks raised her letter. "Proof I have friends."

"That isn't what I meant." In a sudden move, Savage grabbed the letter. "When I tell Dawlish you're sending a letter to—who the hell is  _Stevens?"_

"A friend, not that it's any of your—or anyone else's—business." She snatched the parchment back. "Feel free to tell Dawlish. He'll learn that you're even more of a gossip than he'd thought."

Savage flushed. "At least he doesn't think I'm a slag!"

Tonks said, "Does it burn that I wasn't interested? Get over it." She walked on, not caring if Savage was glaring daggers.

 

 

Remus slept for hours. He wasn't utterly drained the way he used be before Nymphadora used blood magic to bind his wolf, but the change still took its toll. His body needed time to recover from the strain of transformation. Instead of still looking like hell when he awoke, however, he only looked tired.

Will hadn't bothered to unfold the futon into a bed. He lay on his side looking hung over. "Did you have to make so much bloody noise?" he asked, taking the mug Remus offered.

The sound of water filling a kettle and a few cupboard doors opening had not been loud. The boy's senses were overly acute. "You need more rest," said Remus, taking a seat across the room.

"Your girlfriend didn't need any rest." Will gulped his tea and set the mug on the floor. "She left all bright-eyed and bushy tailed."

"Really?" Remus continued to sip his tea.

Will sat up. "If I hadn't heard her enter your safe room, I might have thought she wasn't a werewolf."

A chill ran down Remus's spine. "Nym is my mate. That is all you need to know."

"No need to yell. I was just curious."

Remus had spoken forcefully, not yelled. He decided silence was the best reply. Will's curiosity could prove dangerous.

That night, Nymphadora's disclosure that Aurors were denied leave for the next month forestalled Remus suggesting they spend the next full moon apart. He didn't tell his love it was for the best. She wouldn't have been receptive. Instead, he encouraged her to share all that had happened.

Remus was against any contact with Scrimgeour. That was another area in which they differed. He could only say of her decision to owl Stevens, "I hope you won't be disappointed."

In the mirror, her eyes were dark and vulnerable. "He promised."

How many promises had Rufus Scrimgeour broken in his quest to be Minister for Magic? Remus said, "If Jerry is assigned to Hogsmeade, Dawlish won't be able to prove you countermanded his authority, but he'll blame you nonetheless. Are you prepared to handle the consequences?"

She made a face. "What can he do to make my life worse?"

"Is being stationed at Hogsmeade that bad?" Remus asked. "I thought you had begun to make friends in the village."

"It isn't that easy." Nymphadora's explanation spilled out. "Hamish and Fiona have their family and the scouts. Rosmerta is always rushing off to deal with something in the pub. A friendly chat now and then isn't enough to keep me from feeling isolated and bored out of my skull. If I didn't have you to talk to, I'd go spare!"

His lips turned up at the corners. "I feel the same way at times."

"I'm sorry! I should have considered."

"Don't apologise," Remus said firmly. "I am far less social than you are, and most of my need for intellectual stimulation is satisfied with books." His tone became rueful. "Now that Will is my pupil, I'll likely yearn for the days when I had no one to talk to."

"You'll always have me."

He smiled, wishing his fingertips touched skin instead of glass. "And you will always have me."

 

That assurance was what Tonks clung to in the days that followed. During the moments she spoke with Remus, it was easy. When she flew her solitary patrols or ate her dinners at the bar listening to the impersonal chatter of villagers, it was hard. Her colleagues avoided her. Snape postponed Potions lessons until after the start of term, and Jerry hadn't shown up yet. Not even the imminent arrival of the Hogwarts Express lifted her flagging spirits. Tonks had looked forward to flying beside Ginny's carriage, but Dawlish took her off escort duty at the last minute.

"Do a sweep of the train to ensure there are no traces of Dark Magic or Dark Objects," he said coolly. "Afterwards, double-check the school grounds."

They were standing on the train platform. There was no time to try and change his mind. She nodded briskly, keeping her gaze averted from Savage. If he smirked, she'd flip him off and get his hopes up.

At the sight of the Hogwarts Express, nostalgia welled. Life had been so simple during her years at Hogwarts.

Immediately, a little voice in the back of her mind began sniggering.  _You were sneaking around with a Slytherin whose friends called you a half-blood freak, worried that you wouldn't pass your NEWTs and scared your best mate would become a teenaged pregnancy statistic because she couldn't keep her hands off her boyfriend! How was that simple?_

It wasn't. Life always had challenges. In the past, she'd just had more faith in her ability to overcome them.

Tonks watched the children disembark, feeling empathy for the ones who looked anxious and a bit of envy for the couples who obviously couldn't wait to find a statue to snog behind. A few students looked at her curiously, but most passed by without noticing her presence.

_It's the mousey hair._ Her lips twisted with black humour.  _Works like a Disillusionment Charm._

She turned sharply when someone yelled her name, but couldn't see past the tall boy who had stepped in front of her. He had broad shoulders and a yellow striped tie. If he was a Beater, Hufflepuff might have a chance of putting another House in last place for a change.

"You make a better door than a window," Tonks said. "Move along."

He puffed out his chest. "You can't tell me what to do. I'm a Prefect!"

She flashed her badge. "I'm an Auror."

"Oh."

Once her view was unobstructed, Tonks put an arm up to wave. "Ginny! Over here!"

The girl ploughed her way through the crowd to reach her. "Harry used his Invisibility Cloak to follow Blaise Zabini,  and no one's seen him since!" Ginny seemed torn between anger and tears. "What if they hurt Harry and put his body somewhere no one would find him?"

"I'll find him." Tonks hugged Ginny. "Go on with the carriages. I'll undo whatever prank the Slytherins have pulled and have Harry up to the castle before the end of the feast. Don't worry."

"I can't help worrying," said Ginny. "It's Harry."

So much was conveyed in two small words. Tonks identified, because she felt the same way about Remus. It didn't matter that he was more than able to defend himself. Where there was love, there was worry.

"Trust me," said Tonks. "I'll begin searching right now."

It took her longer than she'd expected to find Harry. She'd given the Slytherins too much credit, thinking they would hide their enemy in a storage cupboard. When she pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, the blood on Harry's face made her stomach clench.

Sympathy wouldn't do the boy any good. Tonks kept her cool, releasing Harry from the Body-Bind Curse and ushering him to the door of the train. The engine was beginning to leave the station, so they had to jump to the platform.

She let Harry regain his balance and composure without offering assistance. It was plain he didn't want help and wouldn't thank her for it. He was almost glaring at her when she returned his cloak.

Tonks didn't react outwardly to the news that Draco Malfoy was responsible for Harry's condition. What could she say? "Too bad we can't choose relatives the way we get to choose friends?" She offered to fix his broken nose, and was almost as surprised that Harry accepted the help as he sounded when he thanked her for the Healing Charm.

If she'd been able to perform a Side-Along Apparation, it would have saved the poor boy a trudge through the dark in the cold. Tonks sent her Patronus to Hogwarts, answering Harry's questions about it and the other Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade with a flatness that came from suppressing anger. She was furious with herself, with Malfoy, and Dawlish too.

When she saw a lantern glowing in the darkness, Tonks was even angry with Hagrid. The light was much too low to the ground to be held by a half-giant, though. Who had intercepted the message?

It was Snape.

Although he opened the gate with sneering contempt for Harry's tardiness, there was something in the way Snape said "Nymphadora" that made Tonks wary. His tone wasn't the curt, impersonal voice of sarcasm she was used to. This was something different. Silky, malevolent...and directly squarely at her.

She gaped in disbelief when Snape mentioned her new Patronus in front of Harry. Why would he bring it up? The harsh clang of iron bars striking together matched the cruelty of his parting words.

_"I think you were better off with the old one," said Snape, the malice in his voice unmistakeable. "The new one looks weak."_

Tonks continued to stand in the darkness until anger overrode shock. The snarky bat had gone too far. She might have to put up with unfair treatment from Dawlish, but she wasn't going to take shit from Snape.

A wave of her wand ripped chains off bars with a satisfying clatter. She kicked the gate open. First, she'd patrol the school. Then, she'd confront Snape.

He refused to be confronted.

Tonks pounded on the door to his quarters with her fist and the toe of her boot. She used a Sonorous Charm to amplify her voice. She even gave the panel a few side-kicks that left imprints of her heels in the wood. Nothing worked. She decided to fight dirty.

A Comfort Charm made the stone floor less cold and hard. Tonks sat cross-legged in the middle of the corridor, using her wand to lead an imaginary orchestra as she sang.

_Oh Hufflepuff, Oh Hufflepuff...!_

The Sonorous she had cast was impervious to Muting Charms. She raised her voice. "Ever patient, ever true, unafraid of toil and—" Tonks couldn't remember, so she improvised. "Hagrid's stew! Oh Hufflepuff, oh—hello,  _Severus,"_ she said when the door opened. "Are you going to invite me in, or should I sing another song? There's one about a magic dragon I used to hear in the common room."

Snape didn't speak. He retreated into the shadows of his quarters, leaving the door open. Tonks scrambled to follow.

There were no chairs in the lounge this time. On the centre table, a single candle burned. She said, "Insufficient light is bad for your eyes. I'll conjure—"

"No."

The word was a breath of sound. She looked in the direction of Snape's voice.

He whispered, "And I thought werewolves had keen sight to match their hearing."

"They do." Realisation hit. Tonks's jaw dropped. "You think  _I'm_ a werewolf? Why?"

"Your Patronus betrayed you."

" _Lumos_ ," said Tonks, lifting her wand to try and see better. "My Patronus is a wolf."

Shadows surged forward like a dark wave. Snape faced her with eyes glittered with loathing. "A she-wolf."

"I don't believe it," she said. "How the stars could you tell?"

He curled his lip. "The tail."

She refused to ask for clarification. "That doesn't make me a werewolf any more than your Patronus makes you a—what's your Patronus?"

"None of your concern."

"Why not? What's the big secret? Is it something cute and fluffy?"

Snape's lips tightened.

Tonks laughed at the irony. "Merlin, that's it! You got shirty because my Patronus could eat your Patronus!"

"My Patronus is stronger than yours will ever be,  _werewolf!"_ Snape spat bitterly.

"I told you, I'm not a werewolf, you prejudiced git!"

"Prove it."

She acted on instinct; striking so fast Snape barely had a chance to protect his face.

He stared at the bloody scratches on his palm with a horror that turned to fury.

Images began racing across her mind's eye at dizzying speed.

_A woman's hand stroked a wolf pelt...two wolves ran through the forest..._

Tonks was frozen in place, unable to close her eyes to block Snape's access to her memories.

_Stop fighting,_ a sibilant voice whispered. She listened, allowing the flood of images to drag her under.

Her world turned black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mess with Snape! Tonks’s memory was taken from the one shot Wish Upon a Dog Star, and Martin Canterbury was the mail clerk who tossed packets onto the floor...and no one complained...in ch 19 of Moonlight and Shadow, for anyone who could use a reminder. The train duty and what took place afterward was inspired by chapter eight of HBP, with the "I think" quote taken from page 160 of the US edition.


	11. Waiting in Darkness

 

 

Tonks floated in darkness like a feather on air until a voice called her name.

She frowned. Was it time for patrol already? It couldn't be. She needed more sleep. Tonks flung a hand out to hit the snooze button on the wizarding alarm and felt cloth. She sighed happily. How had she forgotten that Remus had come to visit? He was so thoughtful, trying to wake her gently. Maybe she could seduce him into postponing his return to Salford. Eyes closed, she trailed her fingers down the sleeve to reach her lover's hand. "Come back to bed," she murmured, tugging his hand toward her heart.

_"Merlin and Nimue!"_

Tonks's eyes snapped open. It took a few seconds to recognise the woman who stood a few metres away. She jack-knifed upward. "Madam Pomfrey! What the hell are you doing in my room?"

The mediwitch said stiffly, " _You_ are in  _my_ hospital wing." She adjusted her matron's cap. "Now, precisely why was I summoned, Professor Snape?"

"Auror Tonks fainted."

Tonks abruptly realised the hand she held so tight wasn't warm enough to belong to Remus. Not daring to look at Snape, she tried to let go. His fingers gripped hers warningly.

Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Ahem. I  _said,_ what were your symptoms, Miss Tonks?"

Toil and trouble, he'd been attempting to cue her to pay attention! "Erm," said Tonks, trying to think of something besides Legilimency overload. She wasn't about to tell what had really happened. "I, uh, felt nauseous. Maybe it was something I ate."

Pomfrey's lips thinned. "There has never been a case of food poisoning at The Broomsticks. When was the first day of your last menstrual period?"

"I don't know. I've taken contraceptive potion for almost a year and a half. What does that have to do with anything?"

The mediwitch gazed at a point over Tonks's shoulder when she said, "No contraception is one hundred per cent effective." Two spots of red appeared on the woman's cheeks.

Tonks's eyes flew to Snape. His expression was glacial. She finally realised what Pomfrey was driving at. "I'm not pregnant," she said, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. "People faint for all kinds of reasons. Nausea, dehydration—even Muggles know that."

Pomfrey swished her wand about. The tip glowed yellow. "You  _are_ slightly dehydrated."

Snape released her hand to conjure a goblet of water.

Tonks said, "Thank you," and drank it down.

He refilled it four times.

"I hear my insides sloshing," Tonks said after drinking the final cup. "I'm sure I'll be fine. May I leave?"

"Tomorrow morning." Madam Pomfrey's tone was brisk. "On the slight chance that you suffer from a more serious malady than dehydration, your condition must be monitored."

"Monitored—meaning every time I fall asleep you're going to wake me up to ask how I feel?" Tonks swung her legs over the side of the bed. "No thanks."

Pomfrey's nostrils flared. "I must insist."

Tonks was set to argue when Snape moved into her line of vision. "I advise you to follow Madam Pomfrey's counsel," he said. "Goodnight."

"You're leaving?" Pomfrey asked the question Tonks might have if she hadn't caught the "until later" look accompanying the farewell.

"Unless you believe Auror Tonks in need of constant, personal supervision."

"No...no..." The mediwitch seemed mesmerised by Snape's low, silky voice. She snapped out of her daze the second he glided out of sight. "I will return to check your progress," she said distractedly, bustling out of the ward.

Was Pomfrey chasing after Snape to confess her burning desire or running to McGonagall to share juicy gossip? Tonks didn't care. She was glad to be left alone.

Her communication mirror was still tucked safely into an inner pocket of her Auror robes. Softly, she said, "Remus."

His face appeared immediately. Worry deepened the lines around his eyes. Tonks yearned to wipe them away. He asked, "The children arrived safely? Harry—how did he look? Is he well?"

"The train arrived on schedule." Tonks bit her lip. "But there was an incident." She took a deep breath and began her story.

When she paused after relating the scene at the gates, Remus said, "There's hope yet for Draco Malfoy. He had the opportunity to kill Harry and didn't take it."

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Have you thought of why Severus mentioned your Patronus?"

"I asked him about it after I patrolled the school." That was one way to put it. Tonks decided to further condense the sequence of events, ending with, "And so I'm spending the night in the hospital wing."

Remus didn't comment. He continued to regard her steadily. It was easy to imagine the same look being used on a student who had fallen asleep in class. Under that professor-y gaze, the schoolgirl Tonks would have confessed that she'd stayed up all night to write an essay assigned weeks prior. The unspoken demand for further explanation worked on women, too. Tonks blurted, "OK. I sort of provoked the Legilimency by taking a swipe at him."

"Define 'swipe'."

"A scratch to prove the wounds weren't cursed."

"That was foolhardy," Remus said sharply. "Severus is deathly afraid of werewolves. He could have killed you."

"He didn't."

"Still, you take too many risks."

Her stomach clenched. What was Remus trying to say, that she should do her duty and bide her time like a good girl? She said, "And I'll take more if I have to. I won't give in to Dawlish, I won't give up on brewing Wolfsbane Potion, and I won't stop coming to see you!"

"You have restricted duty this month."

"Then I'll see you in my dreams."

Remus's lips twitched.

Tonks grinned. "Not those kind of dreams. The ones we shared on full moons when we couldn't be together." She expected him to smile. He didn't. She started to feel uneasy. "What's wrong with that?"

He didn't meet her eyes. "Since you used blood magic to bind the wolf, he's grown progressively stronger. This time, he forced the change."

"How?"

"He clawed his way out at moonrise." Remus paused, as though reliving the memory. "Before that, it took moonlight."

She chose her words carefully. "If you've grown stronger because of our bond, it makes sense he has too. Is that so bad?"

"Yes, it is," Remus said heavily. "For as long as I can remember, I've fought to subdue my animal nature, to keep it as weak as possible."

Tonks couldn't remain silent. "Maybe you were wrong to fight it," she said. "We've had this talk before. You promised to try and accept—"

"—I have tried."

Was he about to tell her he had tried and failed? What if he wanted her to break the bond with his wolf? She wouldn't, even if she could. Footsteps in the outer corridor gave her an excuse to avoid the subject. "I love you for that," Tonks said hurriedly. "I love you so much, I'd love to talk all night, but I think Pomfrey's returning to check my vital signs or something so I'd better go. Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you too. Goodnight."

She slid the mirror into her pocket and flopped down on the narrow mattress. The footsteps she'd heard only faintly grew more distinct. "I'm still alive," she said. "Try not to be too disappointed."

"Why should I be disappointed?"

Snape stood at the foot of the bed. Tonks sat up. "Not you. Pomfrey. She thinks I'm standing between her and  _constant, personal supervision_."

He made a noncommittal noise.

Tonks changed the subject. "Told you I wasn't a werewolf," she said, pointing to his hand.

Snape held up his palm. It was completely healed. "I had reason to believe otherwise."

"Yeah? What?"

"You smelled like an animal."

"Like an  _animal?"_ Tonks gaped incredulously. "I might have slept next to a wolf and not taken a shower after se—uh—sunrise…." She trailed off. Her face was growing hot. "Fine. You had reason, but don't try to force Legilimency on me ever again!"

Snape curled his lip. "Or you'll faint again? I shall endeavour to avoid such a possibility at all costs." He left and did not return.

Tonks gradually fell asleep to dream of running through the forest, chasing a wolf that refused to stop or look back when she called. The dream was so upsetting; she didn't mind Madam Pomfrey waking her to ask if she was in pain and didn't grumble when the mediwitch returned to check vital signs throughout the night.

 

 

Remus experienced a pang of guilty relief to end his conversation with Nymphadora. If he had admitted his second thoughts about their bond, she would have been upset. She wanted him to accept the wolf, to embrace it as freely as she did.

The thought made him flinch. Although blood magic enabled Remus to have a better understanding of wolfish instinct and drive, that empathy only went so far. He never wanted to be one with the animal. He wasn't a werewolf by choice.

It was impossible to fully convey to Nymphadora the difference between her experiences as a wolf and his own. On full moons, she took animal form in dreams. Her mind shifted patterns to adapt, but she was still human. Her wolf form was an illusion. She understood that. What she couldn't quite grasp was how complete Remus’s transformation was. His thoughts didn't merely shift. They were forced into a corner of his psyche while his brain and body conformed to the likeness of an animal. While the vestige of consciousness he retained might influence the wolf, it had no control.

For a man who cherished his humanity, the loss was torturous.

_Knock, Knock, Knock!_

Will called through the door, "Kemp's here. Dix wants to see you."

"I'll be there shortly." Remus placed the communication mirror in a hidden pocket inside his robes and went downstairs.

Kemp was standing near the front door, facing Will. "The boss only asked for Lupin," he said.

"Did he say Lupin  _only?_ " Will smiled persuasively.

"He did." Kemp chuckled. "Maybe next time, pup."

Will bristled. "I'm not a pup. I'm a full pack member. I should be trusted same as you."

"Kemp isn't trusted." Remus strode into the room. "None of us are. Trust is a luxury Dix can't afford."

"I didn't peg you as a cynic, Lupin." Kemp scratched his chin. "You struck me as the hope for the best type."

"I do hope for the best." Remus opened the door, looking directly at Will. "I also prepare for the worst."

Outside, Kemp bit at his thumbnail. "Why'd you say that to the pup? You expecting Dix to be mad or you or something?"

His partner's visit, the status of his assignment for Dix, or his cover blown; there were several reasons Dix could be angry. Remus shrugged. "Or something." He saw a dinged-up white and black idling at the kerb and asked, "Aren't we meeting him at the pub?"

"No. His place. Get in."

The Squire Cab zoomed through city streets to reach the motorway. Remus caught glimpses of the Muggles they passed. Some drivers sang. Some talked into tiny phones or to their passengers. In one car, a mother and father talked in the front seat while a dark-haired girl and a boy slept in the back. As the cab squeezed between the car and a lorry, the boy yawned and opened his eyes.

"Tell me that kid didn't see us!" the driver yelled.

"'Course he didn't," Kemp said.

Remus remembered the amazement on the boy's face and smiled.

The cab stopped in front of a house that looked Muggle at first glance. Large, brick, and situated on a manicured lot, it had an attached building that could have passed for a garage—if the builder had included garage doors.

Dix ushered them inside. He was dressed in business robes.

"You have a lovely home," Remus said politely.

Dix snorted. "Brenda wanted to live in Wizarding Wilmslow, so I let the place. Now she hates the isolation and says the neighbours are snobs. We'll be moving back to the city at the end of the month."

"The pack will be glad to have you closer, sir," said Kemp. He cringed when steely blue eyes turned his way. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No."

"Right. I'll see myself out."

Dix warded the door after his messenger left. "The neighbourhood is infested with Witch Guides. They're always selling something." He led the way through the house, saying dryly, "They would make good werewolves. The girls travel in packs, relentlessly tracking down their prey."

In a study devoid of books, the pack second sat on a leather settee next to a portly, older wizard. Cleave nodded to Remus when he entered. The other man jumped to his feet. "Mr. Lupin! As Mr. Fletcher told you, I am  _accustomed_ to a diverse clientele, but never in all my years of practice have I been forced to attend a meeting at wandpoint!"

Remus said calmly, "I'm sure Mr. Cleave meant only to ensure your safety, Mr. Nelthorpe."

A gleam of humour flashed in the bodyguard's eyes. "Indubitably."

Nelthorpe said, "I require no such  _consideration_  in the future." He waved impatiently toward the desk. "Go on. Sign the paperwork, Mr. Lupin. I have a glass of elf wine and an imported cigar waiting at home!"

Remus turned to Dix. The pack leader's smile was predatory. "Even a sham corporation requires a board to run it. You hired the solicitor; I'm rewarding you with the position of Co-Chairman." He held out a quill. "Sign and Black Wolf Brewery is officially in business."

"Sign my name?" He couldn't sign his name to a fraudulent document. Not even for the Order. His good name was all he had.

Dix barked with laughter. "Sham and real don't mix. Look at the document."

Remus walked forward. "Chairman, Tom Wolfe," he read aloud. "Treasurer, James Wolfe." He looked toward the sofa.

Cleave grinned. "Aren't all wolves brothers?"

Dix placed the quill in the ink pot. "Sign, brother."

If he didn't sign, his cover was blown, and there would be no brewery to provide jobs for werewolves in Salford. Remus was reminded of the time he’d impersonated Peter Pettigrew. He could hear Nymphadora say, "Placed in a tough situation, you did the right thing."

He bent and signed  _John Wolfe_ to the document.

 


	12. Wolves Waiting

 

 

The atmosphere in the room changed subtly once Remus signed the document. Nelthorpe beamed his satisfaction. Cleave's posture relaxed. Dix smiled slightly—until his wife entered the study. Dressed in a floral pink dressing gown and high-heeled slippers, Brenda held a tray in her hands. "Business over? Fabby. Let's have tea!"

The solicitor peered at the food with interest. "Do I see tarts?"

"They're tart-shaped biscuits with cherry jam in the centre. Try one!"

"Mister Nelthorpe was just leaving," said Dix.

Cleave stood. "I'll escort you to the cab, sir."

"Here," said Brenda, plunking the tray down on the desk. "Take a few with you." She picked up a serviette. "You have to try a ginger biscuit, too, and one of my lemon melts dipped in white chocolate."

Nelthorpe clutched his case in one hand and the linen bundle in the other. "You're too kind, madam."

"Much too kind," Dix said once the solicitor was out of earshot. "That man needed more sweets like your shoes need more feathers."

Brenda laughed as she poured cups of tea. "You can never have too much marabou." She winked at Remus. "I think I'll leave a boa in the wardrobe when we leave, a little housewarmin' gift for the next tenants." She picked up a creamer shaped like a brown and white cow.

"I take my tea plain," Remus said.

"I'll do the same," said Dix. He glanced toward the door. "Two sugars as usual, Cleave?"

The muscular bodyguard shook his head. "I'll have my sugar in biscuits."

Brenda set the creamer down with a thud. Cream dribbled from the cow's mouth. "You three are takin' all the fun out of my tea party."

"I could send Cleave and Lupin home," said Dix.

"You wouldn't dare!" Brenda served the men tea before passing round the heaping plate of biscuits. "Sit, Mr. Lupin, and tell me— _was_ Sirius Black really Stubby Boardman?"

Remus took the chair Dix indicated. "Please, call me Remus...and no, he wasn't."

Dix set his teacup and untouched biscuits on the table beside the sofa. He smirked at his wife. "Does that mean you no longer want the Hobgoblins Greatest Hits orb for Christmas?"

She slapped his arm playfully. "Oh, you, 'course I want it. They were my favourite band for ages." Brenda smiled brightly. "What sort of music do you fancy, Remus?"

"Jazz."

"Really? I told Tommy I figured you for the classical type."

_Tommy?_

Dix said, "My given name is Edmund Thomas Dix." He added wryly, "Please, call me Dix."

"I could tell you my first name," said Cleave, "but then I'd have to use a Memory Charm on you."

"Are you skilled at Memory Charms?" The question was casual, but inwardly Remus wondered if that could be the reason former pack members "disappeared." They had their memory wiped and were sent elsewhere.

Cleave's smile was a flash of white. "There's one way for you to find out."

Remus sipped his tea. "No, thank you. I prefer memorable experiences to forgettable ones."

"Me too!" said Brenda. "That's why I never wear boring shoes."

Nymphadora would like her,Remus thought. He said, "Brenda, I'm embarrassed that I don't remember you from school. Were you less—outgoing—then?"

"You mean did I always trowel on makeup and have hair the colour of a baby chick?" Brenda's laugh was hearty. "No, I was the quiet type until Tommy caught my eye. I was determined he would notice me." She fluffed her hair with fingers that glittered with diamonds. "And he did!"

"Such cunning," Dix murmured. "You could have been Slytherin."

"Women of all houses use any means to achieve their ends when it comes to love," said Brenda. She turned to Remus. "Don't you agree?"

He thought of Nymphadora's use of Blood magic. "Yes."

"I've heard you have a partner, Lupin," said Dix. "Why haven't we seen her?"

"The pack hasn't granted permission for her to visit."

"Bring her to the next meeting," said Cleave. "They'll vote her in. The pack needs more females."

They thought she was a werewolf. _Why?_ Remus said, "Nym's on assignment for the next month."

Brenda said, "Nym sounds like a supermodel name. Is she a model? That would be funny—think of the depilatory spells she'd have to use near the full moon!" Abruptly, she frowned. "But werewolves get lines on their face from the change. Does she cover them like I do, with spells and makeup?"

"She's an enquiry agent," said Remus, "not a model...or a werewolf."

Remus saw the look Dix and Cleave exchanged and wondered if he'd made a mistake being honest. Brenda said, "Not were? But—"

"Brenda," said Dix. "It's late. Why don't you go on up to bed? I'll see our guests to the door."

She rose. "You'll do the clearin' up? It's depressin' to be faced with a sink full of dirty crockery in the mornings. Makes me add vodka to my orange juice."

Dix stood and kissed her cheek. "Yes, love."

"All right, then, I'm off. Goodnight, Cleave. Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight, Brenda," said Remus. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"It was my pleasure. “She gestured to the biscuits. "And please take some treats home to Will. Lads his age are always hungry."

"Yes, they are. Thank you." Remus remained seated as Brenda left the room. To stand would be a tacit admission that he felt the impulse to run. When the silence became drawn out, he fought the urge to speak. That, too, would be seen as weakness or guilt. He calmly looked from one man to the other.

Dix smiled slightly. "I want to show you something, Lupin." He made to leave the room.

Cleave jerked his head at Remus. "After you."

The big man followed him closely. Had the bodyguard cast an Anti-Disapparation Jinx that he feared Remus would flee once they were out of the house?

Dix led them to the windowless structure Muggles would have used to store their automobiles. He released the ward on the door and stood back.

Remus entered.

The building was an enormous safe room.

An enchanted torch cast shadows upon the brick walls and cement floor. Overhead, a skylight offered a view of tree branch and a handful of stars. In one corner, food and water dishes waited to be filled. In the centre of the room, ceiling cables held a faceless dummy in protective gear suspended upright.

"Brenda and I tear that thing up every full moon," Dix said conversationally. "Gnaw our way through the pads; rip the head clean off some nights." He walked over to give the arm a tap. "Bit of harmless fun, channelling aggression." The dummy spun in a slow circle. "That would change if a human was locked in this room." He glanced at Cleave. "Can you imagine what we'd do?"

"Tooth and claw, blood and bone," said Cleave, in his deep, rumbling voice.

Remus tensed.

"Ominous turn of phrase, isn't it?" Dix said lightly. "Do you remember your Herbology, Lupin?"

"Somewhat."

"Blood and bone is a component of high nutrient fertiliser." Dix grabbed the dummy by the throat. "Your girlfriend's walking around, not making flowers grow, so either Delia Bowen lied about her kid hearing you two in the safe room, or you're lying to me about your girl not being a werewolf. Which is it?"

"Neither."

"Are you worried about mating season? Afraid another male will challenge you for her?" Cleave prowled forward. "Someone younger, bigger, stronger?"

"No." Remus kept his tone level, even as his eyes flickered around the room. What exactly went on there?

_"Oh, for Merlin's sake!"_  Across the room, Brenda broke a Disillusionment Charm. She stomped her foot. "Stop making him think we're the wrong kind of animals!"

Dix said icily, "I told you to go to bed."

"As though I could sleep, knowing what you planned to get up to!"

A muscle twitched in Dix's jaw. "No one lies to me and gets away with it. I need the truth."

"And how is threatening his mate going to help? Why not try asking?" Brenda faced Remus. "Was Lillie mistaken? Did your girlfriend enter the room after sunrise?"

"No. Nym spent the night."

Brenda asked uncertainly, "How could she do that if she's not a werewolf?"

Remus gazed at each person in turn. "Will my answer leave this room?"

Cleave and Brenda looked to Dix. If he was aware of their questioning stares, he didn't show it, yet he clearly answered for all of them. "No."

There was no way to gloss over the truth. "She used Blood magic."

"Ohhh," said Brenda. "Are you  _bound_ to her—like a love slave?" Her gaze slid sideways.

Dix lifted an eyebrow. "Don't get any ideas."

"Only my wolf is bound," said Remus. "Not my free will."

Brenda smiled. "It's like that Muggle story," she said. "Only better."

Cleave snorted. "Does Nym have a red riding hood?"

"Or a little red cap made of velvet," said Brenda, "If she's going Grimm instead of Perrault. I know, because I did a report on the two versions for Muggle Studies."

Dix shot the two a silencing look. "How did she bind you?" he asked Remus sharply.

"I don't remember. I was a werewolf at the time."

"I'll ask her myself. Bring Nym to the October meeting."

"It's a Halloween party," said Brenda. "Costumes are optional. Some pack members find them Muggle-ish, but I think they're fun."

Cleave said, "We've never had a Little Red Riding Hood before."

Remus was well aware he was being goaded. The knowledge didn't stop him from replying, "I'll come as a woodcutter."

A gleam appeared in the large man's eyes. "Better bring a sharp axe."

"Unless you're going Grimm," said Brenda. "Because then you'll have to dress as a huntsman and bring a rifle." She saw her husband's stony face and laughed. "I'm  _joking._ Of course there's no Muggle weaponry allowed. Everyone knows that."

Dix's countenance softened. "Return to the house," he said. "I'll be there shortly."

"All right, Tommy." Brenda smiled at Remus. "I'll send an owl with the biscuits. Have Will eat them with milk. He's got growing bones." She waggled her fingertips. "Night, boys."

Remus added his goodnight to the others.

Dix stared after his wife. "With Greyback ordering no breeding until after the Dark Lord is in power, Brenda mothers the pack."

"I appreciate her kindness," said Remus.

"Don't expect it from me. I deal fairly by those who deal fairly with me, but those who don't—" He glanced at Cleave, who bared his teeth in a predatory smile.

A frisson of unease crawled its way down Remus's spine. A man—or a wolf—could be held suspended as easily as a dummy. He kept his eyes off the floor and any possible bloodstains. "Tooth and claw, blood and bone?"

"I told you he was smart," Dix said to Cleave. "Escort him home. The cab should be waiting." He held out a hand. "I think it will be a pleasure doing business with you, John Wolfe."

"Thank you." Remus shook Dix's hand before following Cleave down the bricked path to the circular drive.

The return to Salford was made in silence. The driver had tried to start a conversation, but his attempt was half-hearted and quickly abandoned.

When the cab pulled over to the side of the road to let Remus out, Cleave said through the open door, "Tell the pup you were on pack business. Nothing else."

"Not even that Brenda will send biscuits?"

Cleave huffed amusedly. "You can tell him that, and I'll tell you this. I'm looking forward to meeting your woman. I like a nice bit of crumpet, and Nym sounds tasty."

Remus turned on his heel. His patience with Cleave's wolf on the prowl routine was wearing thin. Likely, that was the man's intent, to see if he would keep his cool or betray an area of vulnerability. Since he refused to make Nymphadora a target, Remus kept walking.

He deliberately knocked twice and waited a minute before opening the front door. From the look of things, he had interrupted a heated round of Tonsil Quidditch. The boy had blood-red lipstick on his teeth.

"Wait! You're not going upstairs—you have to tell us what happened!" Will ran his tongue over his front teeth, grimaced, and scrubbed them with his fingers.

"It was pack business, but I can tell you Mrs. Dix is sending a tin of biscuits."

Lillie finished tugging her shirt hem down past her abdomen. "Brenda is ace at baking!"

"I don't give a damn about biscuits," said Will. "I want to know what happened. C'mon," he said to Remus. "I'm pack too. I won't tell."

"Me either," said Lillie.

Remus looked steadily at the girl. "Not even your mother?"

"No! I never told her a thing except—oh shit, she told them Nym was here on the full moon?" Splotches of red appeared on Lillie's cheeks. "I told her not to tell anyone." Lillie jumped to her feet and stormed out of the flat, Will hard on her heels, telling her to calm down.

Remus walked upstairs, wondering how long the quiet would last.

 

 

Tonks covered her face, trying to block the sunlight. There were no drapes on the windows in the east-facing hospital wing. All patients were expected to rise early. Muttering about sadistic witches who murdered sleep, she sat up and punched the pillow.

"Is you wanting breakfast?"

Tonks lowered the pillow. Kreacher stood beside her bed, wearing his usual dingy attire. She scowled. "Is I going to be poisoned?"

"No." A gleam of something flickered in watery eyes. "I has no poison."

Her mouth fell open. "Did you just make a joke?" She looked up at the ceiling. "Why isn't the sky falling?" Kreacher appeared puzzled. She said, "You don't have to serve me. I can go down to—why are you shaking your head?"

"The other elves is not wanting you in their kitchen." Kreacher's lips curved up. "You is banned."

" _Banned?"_

"Forbidden. Barred. Prohibited."

Tonks glared. "I know what it means. I just don't understand how they can do that! All I did was stop them from taking your tea towel."

Kreacher's lip curled. "House-elves here is self-governing."

She laughed in disbelief. "A kitchen republic by the elves, for the elves? Ha!" Tonks hopped off the bed. "Fascist state is more like it, stomping on the rights of the individual." She stabbed her finger at Kreacher. "If you want to wear a tatty, disgusting rag, you should have the freedom to do it!"

Madam Pomfrey bustled into the ward. "Auror Tonks!" she said sternly, "Mind your tone. I could hear you all the way down the corridor."

Tonks grabbed her denims off the chair and yanked them on, fastening her robes while stamping her feet into her boots. "You won't have to worry about that any more. I'm discharging myself."

The mediwitch held up her wand. "I should cast a diagnostic."

"I haven't eaten and I'm hacked off. I probably have low blood sugar and elevated blood pressure, but I'm fine." Tonks smiled thinly. "Thank you for all your care."

She strode out of the ward, thinking if Pomfrey followed, the witch was getting jinxed.

While a few overeager students were up and heading to breakfast, most were still in their dormitories. Tonks peeked into the Great Hall, even though she didn't really expect to see Ginny Weasley. Dawn was breaking across the magical ceiling. She stood and watched it for several minutes.

Stomach rumbling, Tonks left the castle to return to the village. She knew Rosmerta wouldn't be up at such an early hour, so she headed to the Hog's Head. Dawlish had made arrangements for one of the village women to deliver breakfast every morning. Most days, Tonks preferred sleep to food, but today she was starving and in dire need of caffeine. She entered the pub, intending to let nothing come between her and a mug of coffee.

Halfway to the bar, the sound of a familiar voice calling her name stopped Tonks dead in her tracks. She whirled around to see her Auror partner grinning like an overgrown wizard scout. Launching herself across the room, she hugged him, crying, "Merlin, Jerry. What took you so long?"

 


	13. Ready and Waiting

 

Tonks felt Jerry's chuckle before she heard it.

"I left the minute I could," he said. "I've kept luggage in my cubicle for weeks."

"Oh yeah?" Tonks smiled up into a freckled face. "Did that earn you a Memo of Doom from Gulch?"

"No, but Marsden put me in an office cartoon." Jerry reached into his robes.

Tonks snatched the paper out of his hands. "He gave you a wizard scout hat and added a bandana to your robes!"

"Look what's on my Auror badge."

"Be Prepared!" She burst out laughing.

" _Tonks! Connelly! In my office. Now!"_

Tonks made a face. "Have you met Dawlish yet? He's such a joy to work for." She walked over to the bar to get coffee.

"Uh…shouldn't you do that later?"

She quickly poured sugar and cream into the mug. "Only if you want me to be sacked. You know how I am without caffeine." Tonks led the way to the office corridor. "Is that it, you just got here, and already you're scheming to get rid of me?" She rapped on the door.

"No! Of course not! I—"

"I missed you, too, mate." Tonks's grin slid off her face when the office door jerked open.

Dawlish glared at them. "When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out immediately!"

"Yes, sir," said Jerry.

Gran always said a quiet answer turned away wrath. Tonks decided to give it a shot. "Yes, sir."

"Then get in here!" Dawlish stalked toward his desk.

Tonks mouthed "joy" at Jerry before taking a seat in one of the chairs.

Dawlish regarded her with narrowed eyes. "I suppose you think you're clever." When she didn't respond, he said, "I don't know what you didto countermand my authority, but if I ever find out…."

He'd what? Have Proudfoot and Savage take her into the forest and make sure she didn't come back? Tonks dropped her gaze, pretending to be cowed. She was really doing her best not to laugh. A scene from a gangster film she'd watched at her Gran's flashed into mind—with certain changes.

_Proudfoot walked into the office, followed by Savage. He tossed a small, squishy object onto the desk._

_Dawlish looked at the bog mud splattered on the wood with distaste. "What is this?"_

_Savage sniggered. "It means Auror Tonks is sleeping with the leeches."_

"Do I make myself clear?"

Since she hadn't heard whatever Dawlish had just said, Tonks slanted a glance sideways.

Jerry, Phoenix scout that he was, answered, "Yes, sir, you are the Head Auror, you make the decisions. We follow orders."

"Remember that. Dismissed."

In the corridor, Tonks asked as they walked, "Have you eaten breakfast? I'm starving."

"Mum had started frying sausages when the owl came."

"Bet I'm her least favourite person right now, stealing her baby boy away."

"She didn't mind, actually."

Alarm bells pealed like crazy in Tonks's brain. Mrs. C voluntarily loosening the apron strings when Jerry should have had to pry them from her clenched fingers one by one? Something was up.

They had reached the main room of the pub. Jerry smiled. "Look—oatmeal bannocks and scrambled eggs. I haven't eaten those together since Hogwarts." He waited for her to spoon out a helping of eggs, gesturing to the thick cakes cut into triangles. "I like mine with butter and honey. What about you?"

She took two quarters of bannock and drizzled heather honey onto the bread, adding a large dollop of heavy cream.

"I'll try that too," said Jerry.

Proudfoot and Savage were eating at adjoining tables near the entrance. Tonks took her food to a table in the back. When she had eaten enough to satisfy hunger—in case Jerry's response made her lose her appetite—Tonks said, "All right. Who's the girl Mother Dearest wants out of sight and out of mind?"

He swallowed a piece of bannock and coughed. After taking a sip of coffee, Jerry said, "It isn't a girl, it's a woman, and she's only a friend: your friend Cami."

_"Cami Llewellyn?"_ Tonks drew a blank for a second and then said, "Oh. When I left, you two continued to go running?"

"Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday," said Jerry. "I told you I always wanted to learn a Muggle sport."

Tonks remembered all the mornings Cami and Jerry joined her on a run. "I thought you did that to keep me from becoming a depressed, out-of-shape mess."

"I did."

An awful thought struck. "Is Cami depressed?"

"No. She's confident her boyfriend will return from wherever he went missing. Cami never said, and I didn't want to pry." His brows drew together. "You don't keep in touch?"

Guilt struck hard. "Not like I should."

Hazel eyes became thoughtful. "That makes sense."

"What do you mean?"

Jerry said, "Cami asked me to write and tell her what colour your hair was." He shrugged a shoulder. "I wondered why she didn't ask you herself, but since you're not writing . . .."

Tonks pushed back her chair. The harsh, scraping sound made heads turn. She ignored the stares of Padfoot and Savage. "I'll meet you outside when you're finished." After dumping her plate and mug in the washing up bowl, she made for the door, grimly holding onto her composure.

She heard the sounds of Jerry gathering his dishes but didn't stop. She was standing at the far end of the building, looking down the street toward the centre of the village, when he walked out of the Hog's Head.

"Tonks?"

"Let me show you how Dawlish wants us to patrol the village."

Jerry's long stride quickly caught up to her shorter one. "I know the streets. There aren't that many. Tell me what's wrong."

She pointed. "Someone keeps changing the Gladrags shop sign to 'Gladbags.' If you catch the perpetrator, Mrs. Snap will award you a discount coupon."

"Tonks."

"Last month, the prankster targeted Scrivenshafts. Made it 'Shrivelledshafts.' The owner, Mr. Blount, offered a small reward, but there were no tips."

Jerry took her arm.

Tonks tried to pull away. "We're in the middle of the street, Jerry. Didn't your mum ever tell you not to play in the street?"

"There's no traffic, we're not children, and I'm not letting go until you tell me what's wrong."

The tears she'd been fighting fell in warm streaks down her face. "Cami's boyfriend was my cousin Sirius. He fell behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries, and as much as I want to, I can't believe he's coming back!" She looked up at him miserably. "If you tell Cami my hair isn’t pink, she'll know I broke my promise to keep faith!"

Jerry let go of her arm to pull her into a hug. "Damn, I'm sorry."

Tonks gave a watery chuckle. "Are Phoenix scouts allowed to use profanity?"

"Only to emphasise the gravity of a situation."

She snorted with amusement.

"And me without my camera," a voice said behind them. It was Savage.

Tonks said, "You've never seen Auror partners be mates before? Guess I'm not surprised, since the only way to have a friend is to be a friend."

Savage's square jaw thrust forward. "I tried to be your friend, but you shot me down, remember?" His eyes flickered over to Jerry. "Does your  _mate_ know you've been spending nights at the castle with Snape?"

Jerry stiffened. "What?"

"Savage should work for  _The Quibbler_ , the way he loves gossip," said Tonks. She pulled away from Jerry. "Why don't you run along and tell Dawlish you saw us scandalously hugging in the street." Tonks made shooing motions with her fingers. "Better hurry before Proudfoot beats you to it."

"How? He stayed behind."

"He carries omnioculars." Tonks rolled her eyes. "D'you really they're for bird watching?"

Savage Disapparated.

"See why I missed you so much?" Tonks said. "That's the kind of crap I've had to put up with."

Jerry had a strange expression on his face. "You've been spending nights with Snape?"

For the second time that morning, she broke into laughter. "NO! He's teaching me Potions, and only has free time at night."

"Then why did Savage—"

"I let whoever wants to think the worst do just that," Tonks said. "That way, if I get an invitation to visit Remus, I have a reason to be gone for a night or two."

"Lupin hasn't invited you to visit?" Jerry looked at her pityingly.

Tonks wanted to hug him for being sweet and punch him for thinking badly of Remus. "He's with a pack in Salford. It's complicated. I don't want to talk about it.”

"What do you want to talk about?"

If he had been Remus, she would have quoted Lewis Carroll.  _Of cabbages—and kings—and why the sea is boiling hot—and whether pigs have wings._ Instead, Tonks hooked her arm through his. "There's someone I want you to meet." She led Jerry to the multi-sport shop, calling, "Wotcher, Hamish!" to the lanky redhead standing beside the counter.

Hamish set aside his  _Daily Prophet_. "Good morning, Tonks!" He smiled. "Is this the wizard Fiona and I have heard so much about?"

"Shh!" she said. "If his ego gets too big he might try to be lead partner."

Jerry shook his head, grinning. "Only when you let me."

Tonks remembered her manners. "Hamish, this is Jerry Connelly—Auror and Phoenix Scout. Jerry, this is Hamish Macbeth, proprietor of Macbeth's Multi-Sport and leader of the Hogsmeade wizard scout troop. He made Phoenix Scout too."

The men shook hands. Hamish said, "The troop is going on a hike this weekend. If you're off duty, Mr. Connelly, the boys and I would be glad to have you join us."

"It's Jerry, and I'll look forward to it."

The two men began to talk Scout, a language unfamiliar to Tonks. She wandered over to peruse a shelf of Fanged Frisbees, wondering how many would be purchased by schoolboys over the first Hogsmeade Weekend. The Sabre Tooth looked fun.

Her pleasure that her friends were getting along so well dimmed when she heard Jerry say, "If the Witch Guides are joining your troop on the hike, I'm sure Tonks would be happy to help your wife with the girls." He raised his voice slightly. "Wouldn't you, Tonks?"

Why had she made eye contact? How could she say no to a couple of overgrown wizard scouts? "Love to," she lied breezily. “If I'm not on duty."  _Please let me be on duty,_ she silently chanted.  _Please let me be on duty._

 

 

While he had dinner with Lillie and Will—who grumbled that there were more mushrooms than beef in the pasta sauce—Nymphadora had been invited to the Macbeths for lamb stew.

"And Fiona made this dessert called Typsy Laird," Nymphadora said when they talked via mirror. "I don't know if it was the sherry  _in_ the trifle, or the sherry she said  _had_ to be drunk with it, but I smiled all the way home!"

"Perhaps the trifle should have been called Tipsy Auror."

Remus loved the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. "Auror, singular, is correct, because Jerry didn't drink, but I'm not tipsy. I'm  _happy._  The only way I could be happier is if you were here with me." Her smile became wicked. "Oh, the things I would do to you."

She was under the influence of alcohol. He should encourage her to get some sleep. "What would you do?"

His lover giggled, and then all he could see was her mouth, pressed to the glass. Remus traced the image with the pad of a finger. The tip of her tongue slid between her lips. His muscles tensed. He was teaching Will wandless magic. Couldn't he teach himself Long-Distance Apparation?

Nymphadora's entire face came into view. "French-kissing a mirror. That is so sad."

Her giggles made him smile. "You don't sound sad."

"That's because I'm happy—and naked."

"Naked?" Remus wondered if lust hampered cognitive ability. All he seemed capable of doing was repeating words.

"As far as you know," she said playfully, "I took a long, hot bath and then decided to let the air dry my skin—or I might be fully clothed down to my boots."

The mental images made him determined to do research on Apparation first thing in the morning. "Your brown boots?" he asked, trying to distract his mind from frustrating thoughts.

"I'll check." Her eyes flickered. "No, the black." Instantly, Nymphadora's bottom lip turned down. "Now you know I'm still dressed." A few seconds later, her expression shifted. She licked her lips. "I can get naked if you want me to."

_I want you to,_ thought Remus,  _but I'm not going to ask you to._ "I want us to undress each other in person," he said. "I'll wait."

His lover's mouth was looking sulky again. "How long?"

"Dix has invited you to the October meeting."

"October? I can't wait that long!" Her tone became that of an enchantress. "Come see me."

Willingly captivated, Remus said, "I'll do my best."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Remus's pov was the one that dominated. This time, it was Tonks’s. Maybe next chapter they'll share the limelight together. ;) The Lewis Carroll quote was part of The Walrus and the Carpenter from Alice Through the Looking Glass. Ralph Waldo Emerson is the one who said, "The only reward of virtue is virtue; the only way to have a friend is to be a friend." That seemed to fit Remus and Tonks this chapter!


	14. Waiting for Moonrise

Tonks should have kept her mouth shut. When she’d told Jerry that Dawlish assigned her duty on the day of the Scout hike, all she had to do was nod in agreement that it was too bad. Instead, she'd tried to cheer him by saying she could always go another time.

She didn't know Wizard Scouts went hiking every Saturday, weather permitting.

Although she smiled and said the plan sounded brilliant, Tonks inwardly groaned. That night, she vented her frustration to Remus. "If they want exercise, why can't the troop just go on a run to the school gates and back? What's so great about rambling through the hills?"

"Experiencing nature?"

His smile made her feel grumpier, because she wanted to kiss his lips. "Nature is overrated. Windburn, sunburn, bugs, rocks to trip over, poisonous plants, dangerous predators."

"Predators?"

As much as she adored Remus's smile, she didn't appreciate seeing it at that particular moment. "There are more than rabbits and deer in the Highlands. We could be attacked by wildcats!"

"They hunt at dawn and dusk, so it's highly unlikely you'll even see one, although you may see fur or feathers to indicate one has been near."

Tonks scowled. "Well, Muggles didn't make up those tales about magical creatures off the top of their heads!" She began to pace the attic. "Kelpies lurk in streams."

"Do you fear being snatched away and devoured?"

If Remus was the one doing the devouring, she'd welcome it. "I was never a horse lover," she said, "but Kelpies can become beautiful women, so Jerry would be doomed." Tonks shook her head. "I am  _not_ going to be the one to tell Mrs. C all that's left of her precious baby is his liver!"

"His liver?" Remus appeared on the verge of laughter.

Previous mental images of being devoured made her not mind so much. "Yeah, they don't eat livers for some reason." She batted her eyelashes. "Did you not know that, professor?"

He grinned wolfishly in response to her provocative tone. "I did not. Thank you for filling that gap in my education."

Tonks fought the urge to lick the mirror and ask when their gap in intimacy would be filled. She didn't want to sound needy. Subtle was better. "How's your research into Long-Distance Apparation going?"

"I haven't had the chance to do any."

In four days? She noticed he didn't mention Will. Something besides teaching was occupying his time. "Dix keeping you busy?"

"Yes."

The lack of details was a giveaway that Remus's conscience was bothering him. She said lightly, "A brewery means jobs so werewolves don't have to steal to eat. That's a good thing."

"No matter how many laws are broken?"

High principles were one of the reasons she loved him so much, but she hated it when Remus got down on himself for failing to live up to them. "The laws are prejudicial, meant to punish werewolves for a condition they can't help and keep them under the control of the Ministry. They don't deserve to be followed."

Remus smiled briefly. "You'll fit in with the pack better than I do."

Talking about her Black streak wouldn't keep him smiling. She decided to change the subject. "Want to see my new party trick?"

"You had an old one?"

Yes! A full smile! Tonks winked. "You remember that time I tied a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue, don't you?"

"Me and every other bloke in the Iron Shackle."

Uh oh, his lips were turning down. A different kind of reminder was in order. "Only one man enjoyed the benefits of my talent."

Like magic, Remus's mouth curved upward. "I enjoyed them very much."

She sighed. If only staring into his eyes in the mirror acted as a Portkey. What she would give to be where he was.

"You mentioned a party trick?"

A party for two sounded lovely. There were all sorts of games they could play. She felt warm and melty just thinking about it.

"Nymphadora?"

"Hmmm?" She pulled her mind out of the chocolate body paint. "The party trick. Yeah. I thought of it one night when I was digging through—I mean organising—some of the trunks stored in the attic and came across an old Book of Spells. I found one that isn't taught in modern curriculum." Tonks placed a hand against her face, palm to chin, fingertips tilted outward. She peered at her lover through outstretched fingers.

Remus's eyes widened when her fingernails lengthened into claws. "What spell is that?"

" _Unguis_. It can give you any kind of claws you like, but it takes heaps of practice and concentration." She grimaced. "And always remember to hold your fingers  _away_ from your face." Tonks lightly stroked her cheek with the long, curving back of the claws. "These things are sharp as knives!"

"They're werewolf claws."

She nodded. "I used them to carve a heart with our initials in the back corner of the attic. It was so cool, slicing into wood as easily as writing with a quill!"

"You consider werewolf claws a party trick?"

The meaning behind his quiet, level tone finally sank in. "You don't think Dix would like me to carve his name on the wall?" she asked in a small voice.

"I'm sure he would."

She lowered her hand so he couldn't see the claws anymore. "But you wouldn't."

"No. I wouldn't."

"Because . . .."

"Because I want you to have nothing in common with Fenrir Greyback."

Tonks stared at his reflection, stricken.

Remus said, "Greyback transforms his entire hand into a werewolf paw, using it to inflict cursed wounds on wizards and  _lessons_  to werewolves." His eyes took on a faraway look.

Love and sympathy compelled her to ask, "Did you ever receive a lesson?"

"Yes."

His bleakness tore at her heart. "I'm sorry." Tonks glanced down, focused sharply, and then rested her hand on her cheek. "How about I just use cat claws if I ever need to climb a tree? They're cute and retractable."

"They are indeed." Remus smiled a little. "Do you anticipate climbing trees in the near future?"

"Only if a scout forces me to rescue a kitten out of one."

"Forces you?"

She pursed her lips. "Yeah, you know, asking all pitiful and big-eyed."

"I know what Sirius once told me about a certain cousin of his." At last, Remus's smile reached his eyes. "A little girl who refused to believe a kitten would find its way down from a high branch."

Tonks remembered the incident. "He asked me if I'd ever seen a cat skeleton in a tree. What kind of argument was that? It caused me to jump every time an acorn fell, thinking a cat bone was falling on me!" She shuddered theatrically.

Remus's huff of amusement was her reward.

She kept the rest of their conversation light, even though she wanted to ask what his plans were for the full moon. She would still be confined to Hogsmeade on the twenty-sixth, so if he didn't spend it with her in the Shrieking Shack, they could only be together in dreams.

The thought wasn't comforting.

The blood magic binding her to his wolf ensured she shared the wolf's memory-inspired dreamscape when they were physically together, but when they weren't, her subconscious controlled their shared dreams. Sometimes, that got her into trouble.

 

The decision to wear combat boots got her into trouble with the scouts when she showed up for the hike. Hamish opened his shop and outfitted her with hiking boots that would breathe, grip and provide her with something called longitudinal and torsional support. The brown leather didn't go as well with her gray camouflage—worn to coordinate with the scout uniform of mushroom gray trousers and dark green shirts—but the suede cuff was comfy, and she wasn't fashioned obsessed; although she was glad her trousers were long and hid most of the boots from view.

Jerry, super-scout that he was, provided her with a canteen of water. They brought up the rear while Hamish guided the boys out of Hogsmeade.

"Bonny day, isn't it?" the scout leader called back to them once the group was out earshot of the village.

"Fabulous!" Tonks yelled, before muttering to Jerry, "If you enjoy marching across frozen tundra before noon!"

"I enjoy hiking through scenic foothills."

She elbowed him. "I enjoy hiking through scenic Diagon Alley!"

Jerry's laughter rang out.

Robbie, the boy in front of them, turned his head. "My mum likes shopping too!" His dark curls gave him an angelic look that didn't match his grin. "But my dad doesn't like paying for it. He says Galleons don't grow on trees."

"I wish they did," said Tonks. "I'd buy a new racing broom."

"Me too!"

A lively discussion travelled up and down the line as each boy shared what he would buy if Galleons grew on trees.

Hamish shook his head in amusement. "Would none of you give to the poor?"

Robbie shouted, "Sure! Right after I buy my racing broom!"

Tonks had been listening to the boys instead of paying attention to the scenery. She hadn't noticed that the path they were following had climbed steadily upward. When Hamish pointed to a stream and told the boys to take a break and fill their canteens, she asked, "Is there a cave near here?"

"Yes, there is. We're headed there to do a good deed for its new resident."

Logically, she knew there were many streams and a lot of caves in the Highlands, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this was the stream her mate had led her to in dreams, and the cave  _their_ cave. The feeling grew stronger as they climbed a hill and approached what looked like a pile of rocks. Hamish used a Sonorous Charm. "It's Hamish Macbeth, Mrs. Black, here with the scouts to help with the garden!"

"I'll be right out!" a deep, scratchy voice cried.

The instant Tonks caught sight of the hag's straggling black hair and skin so white it seemed blue, she ran forward. "That's Black Annis!"

"You must not have read my letter to the  _Prophet,"_ said the hag. "I've got two eyes, not one, eat mutton, not children, and my name is Annis Black." She shook the round tin held in gnarled hands. "Would any of you boys care for a chocolate chip biscuit?"

Everyone except Tonks rushed forward.

The hag said, "You're welcome to a biscuit, Miss."

"Tonks. I'm an Auror, and I'd like to see inside your cave."

"Would you? Come in, then."

Hamish cleared his throat. "C'mon, lads, let's get to work." He opened a rucksack and gave each boy a hand fork or digging trowel. "The bearberry and trailing azalea won't plant themselves."

Annis Black climbed the rocks as nimbly as a goat. Tonks scrambled up much less gracefully. She jumped down to the other side and fell back on her arse. The hag held out her hand and pulled Tonks to her feet.

Tonks stared at the door that hid the opening in rock. "Ta, Thanks."

"Have you been here before?"

"Maybe." Tonks jerked her head toward the cave. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

Tonks expected a dimly lit room. She found a bright space hung with tapestries.

"The enchanted skylight in my cave at Deadmarsh was larger, but this one does the job."

"Yes," Tonks said absently, her gaze riveted to the floor. She walked to the place she had lain in her dreams, dropping to her knees to run a hand across scratch marks etched in stone.  _Remus,_ she thought, yearning to be with him.

"You must have a touch of the Sight," said the hag. "Ever since I moved in, I've dreamt of wolves every full moon. They come into this cave and curl up on that exact spot." Her chuckle was rusty. "They're very affectionate."

Tonks felt her cheeks grow warm. "Are they?"

"Aye. Didn't seem right to cover the stone with a rug, so I leave it bare."

"Thank you," Tonks said without thinking.

"What for?"

Tonks stood. "For being hospitable despite my rudeness. I jumped to conclusions before and I apologise, Mrs. Black."

"Folks having wrong ideas about me is why I moved from Leicestershire. I'm happy that such isn't the case here, Miss Tonks."

Tonks stuck out her hand. "It's just Tonks."

Her hand was taken in a firm clasp. "Annis."

Outside, Jerry was waiting, a tense expression on his face. Tonks couldn't help teasing him after he helped her down from the rocks. "It's more awful than I imagined."

His hand tightened around her arm. "Skins on the walls?"

"Worse. Tapestries—in  _pastels_!" She placed the back of her hand to her brow. "The flowers, the fruit, the  _horror!"_

She was still sniggering when a boy yelled, "I need help!"

"Coming, Robbie!" Tonks strolled over to a patch of ground that looked decidedly untilled. "What's going on?"

"I can't use this trowel. It's too dull."

She glanced over her shoulder and then knelt on the ground. "If you can keep your mouth shut, I'll help you."

"I'll keep quiet. Are you going to use a spell? Ace!"

No one was watching, so she transformed her nails into werewolf claws. Cat claws were good for climbing and defence, but wolves were the ones who buried their kill to eat later, digging through snow and ice if need be. She raked her claws along the ground. They sank into the soil as if it was soft and not rocky.

" _Cool,"_ Tonks and Robbie said at the same time. They shared a grin.

She made short work of breaking up the soil. "Know what the best part is?" she told Robbie, waggling her claws playfully. "I don't have to clean under my fingernails!"

"That's a useful talent," said a voice behind them. It was Annis.

Tonks silently chanted a spell to get rid of the claws. "Thanks." She was taken aback when the hag reached into a pouch hanging by a cord at her waist and offered her a dark, mottled green stone.

"Nephrite jade aids in dreaming. State your will and sleep with it under your pillow."

"Is that what you do?" Tonks took the jade, since she didn't want to offend Annis again, and wanted to distract her from asking about the claws.

The hag reached into the pouch again and showed her a light green stone. "No. I use prehnite to remember dreams."

Jerry and two scouts were making their way over. "I guess they're ready to plant seeds," said Tonks, wishing Annis would go give Hamish a magic rock and leave her alone.

"Dreams are like seeds. May they grow and bless you." She nodded amiably to Jerry and continued over to Hamish's group.

Determined to forget the mystical and concentrate on the practical, Tonks slipped the jade into a pocket.

 

 

Remus wished he could forget about the approaching full moon, but every night he saw the same question in Nymphadora's eyes.  _Will we be together?_

He avoided answering, talking about her day, about news articles he'd read, Will's aptitude for Charms, the slow progress he was making in Long Distance Apparation—anything other than the topic he knew she wanted to broach. If he told her he had a bad feeling, with nothing except a cryptic comment by Dix to explain his vague foreboding, she would worry.  _What exactly did Dix say? How did he say it? What expression did he have on his face?_ Remus could imagine her saying in what he thought of as her "sexy Auror" voice.

There was nothing he could tell her that would ease her mind.

He'd walked into Dix's office and overheard him tell Cleave, "Sometimes restitution isn't enough." The words had been said casually, with no clue in tone or expression to give meaning or context, but Remus had immediately flashed back to the night a grateful werewolf shook his hand.

_Saved my life, your advice. Thought Dix was going to slice me up and toss me in the river until I begged to make restitution._

If Kemp had returned to his old habits of stealing from Muggles, how would Dix react? What punishment would he mete out?

The possibilities triggered nightmares.

Each time he woke in a cold sweat, Remus reminded himself that he wasn't lying bruised and bleeding in a pit dug in Scottish soil. It was 1996, not 1981. He hadn't sacrificed everything he held dear for a mission that was doomed from the start. His friends in the Order trusted him. Nymphadora loved him. He couldn't let experiences in the past taint the present.

As the days passed and the twenty-sixth of September neared, however, it grew harder to sleep, and impossible to explain to his lover why he still didn't know if they would be together.

"Don't you want to be with me?" she asked, two nights before the full moon.

"Always," he said, "But I can't promise to come to Hogsmeade. I have to wait."

"For permission? I thought Dix gave it."

"He did...and he can rescind it."

"Why?"

Remus was unable to hide his fears any longer. "To teach a lesson."

"Not to you. He trusts you." Nymphadora's eyes begged for reassurance.

Conditionally, that was true. Remus said, "Not me. Kemp, who runs through his stipend and then cadges a meal or beer whenever he can, yet according to Will has been bringing Delia Bowen steaks and bottles of wine."

"Maybe he got a job to impress her."

"Or he's breaking his word to Dix about stealing, and going to find himself facing pack discipline."

"What does that mean?"

Remus shared the details he'd omitted before when telling her about Dix's massive safe room.

Nymphadora looked thoughtful. "Kemp wouldn't be killed, right?"

"No. Werewolves heal at an extraordinary rate during the change," he said wryly. "If they didn't, we'd be marked by our scars and even less able to function in society."

After moments of silence, she said, "Are you afraid the pack will turn on you if you don't...participate...in their discipline _?"_

He looked away, unable to meet her eyes as he said, "I'm afraid I'd enjoy  _participating_."

"It wouldn't be you. It would be your wolf, acting out of instinct to protect the pack. You can't blame yourself for anything he does."

Remus chuckled mirthlessly. "You can't have it both ways, Nymphadora. Either the wolf is part of me, and I accept everything, including responsibility for his actions, or he isn't."

"Blame and responsibility are two different things," she said.

"Are they?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to argue over it or something that might never happen!"

Although Remus tried to share Nymphadora's optimism, he wasn't surprised when an owl delivered a note from Dix on the morning of the full moon.  _I should have expected this,_ he thought, tossing Thialfi an owl treat.  _He's giving Kemp as little time to get suspicious and run as possible._

In his cage, Strix hissed at the fluffy-feathered visitor.

"Guests first, my friend."

The larger owl relaxed his stiff plumage and regally accepted a treat.

Remus took out his communication mirror. "Nymphadora."

Her face appeared on the reflective surface within seconds. "Hello, love. Guess where I am?" She went on before he had time to answer. "I'm in the Shrieking Shack, doing a bit of dusting, chalking a circle of protection, casting Comfort Charms."

"I just received an owl from Dix."

Nymphadora's lips tightened. "Waits to the last second, doesn't he? Bastard." She took a deep breath. "OK. You have to be with the pack. I can deal with that." She bit her lip. "Can you deal with it?"

Remus honestly didn't know. He said, "I'll tell you in the morning."

"Maybe I'll see you before then in our dreams."

"If I'm allowed to sleep."

Nymphadora's mouth trembled and then firmed. "I'll put my rock that aids dreaming beneath my pillow, then, so I'll dream of you no matter what."

He doubted a piece of jade had magical powers, but if it made Nymphadora sleep easier, Remus would keep his opinion to himself. "I need to show Will the note," he said, reluctant to end their connection. "If I'm unable to use the mirror until tomorrow, sweet dreams, my love."

"Sweet dreams. I love you."

Remus was painfully aware of the reason her reflection vanished so quickly; she didn't want him to see her cry. Feeling guilty and drained by the beast gaining strength with every passing hour, he slowly made his way downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black Annis is a blue-skinned hag who eats children in folklore, but in HP she sent a letter to the Prophet protesting that stereotype. :D. As for werewolves, I couldn't find mention of any scars on Remus's face or hands in canon, (the films are not canon, lol) and it's hard to believe Harry would've overlooked them while describing his shabby robes, the grey in his hair, and Ron's opinion that "He looks like one good hex would finish him off", so I believe werewolves heal magically.


	15. Waiting Beneath the Full Moon

 

 

He stood in the back of Dix's reception room, watching the others eat and drink, laugh and talk. An outsider might lift an eyebrow over some of the leather attire, but otherwise the scene would appear that of a typical party.

Remus thought it macabre, something out of a Muggle horror film. Werewolves gathered to celebrate the upcoming change.

So close to the full moon, his senses were uncomfortably heightened. The music was too loud; the bass pounded through his body. Illumination orbs seemed to glare. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and various perfumes and colognes. His muscles tensed. Animal instinct urged him to escape. Human determination made Remus stay.

Delia Bowen walked over to stand beside him. "They act like it's a bleedin' cocktail party," she said in a low voice. "No one's noticed that Kemp hasn't shown. He could be in jail—or dead. No one would care except me."

"I'd care," Remus said.

Her square jaw thrust out. "Why? He's not your friend."

"He's a human being."

She laughed bitterly. "He's a werewolf. Less than human to the Ministry."

"We're not the Ministry."

Delia looked down at the beer in her hand. She raised the bottle to drain the contents. "That means we have no trials," she said. "Only judgment and execution."

Remus glanced around. No one was in hearing distance. He asked, "Has Kemp done anything that warrants judgment?"

She didn't speak. She didn't have to. The answer was written on her face.

Sympathy compelled Remus to say, "If Kemp's earned punishment, it isn't a death sentence. He'll survive."

"You can't know that!" Delia's bear-like eyes glittered with anger.

Memories of pain and blood tried to claw their way to the surface. Remus fought them back. "Yes, I can," he said hoarsely.

Will chose that moment to saunter over for a chat. "Hey!" he said, holding up glasses of champagne. "This is some party, eh?" He gestured to the Persian rug. Golden liquid spilled. "Posh digs."

Delia curled her lip. "You're drunk."

Will laughed. "I'm high on life." He offered her a glass.

She drank the champagne like a shot of tequila. "Brilliant idea."

Remus shook his head when Will tried to press the other glass into his hand.

Shrugging, Will drank the champagne and then licked the alcohol that had sloshed onto his fingers. "You don't know how to have fun, professor." He listened to the music for a moment and then sang, “I want you to see, the beast inside of me. I want you to know the animal I will become.”

Remus felt the opposite of the drummer who had written the lyrics. He didn't want his lover to embrace "the beast" or see the darkness inside his soul.

Across the room, someone yelled, "MegaMaggot rocks!"

Will stopped stomping along to the bass lines to yell, "MegaMaggot!" He clapped Remus on the shoulder. "You saw them in concert. You rock!" He barked with laughter. "Professor of Rock. Hilarious! If only Lillie was here."

Delia snarled, "The day you turn my daughter is the day I rip your throat out, pup."

Will's expression was a mix of shock and anger. Remus tried to defuse the situation. "He didn't mean it that way."

"N—no. I didn't. I meant she'd laugh her arse off. I'd never hurt Lillie!" Will's face twisted. "You're such a bitch, always looking down on me, thinking the worst."

_"William!"_ Remus said sharply. "This isn't the place."

"No, it isn't," Delia said. "Look—Dix is about to speak."

The leader cut off the music by picking up the Orpheus Orb. "It's time."

Amid playful howls and cheers, Dix and Brenda led the way to the safe room. Remus was the last to leave the house. It took concentrated effort for his feet to move. He wanted to Apparate, to spend the night with Nymphadora in the Shrieking Shack, not be caged with a pack of animals.

Brenda stood in the doorway of the brick structure, scolding one of the men for bringing a bottle of wine. "Glass and paws don't mix, Travis. Drink it now, or save it for later."

Remus waited for Travis to place the bottle on the ground and followed them into the torchlit safe room. The click of the lock turning was loud in the unnatural silence. The pack stood in a semicircle, all eyes focused on the centre of the room. Kemp, shackled and muzzled, dangled upright by ceiling cables like a training dummy.

Dix stood beside his prisoner. In another setting, he would look the part of a businessman about to publicly reprimand an employee. In this place, he looked far more sinister. He said, "What is the penalty for endangering the pack?"

Cleave stepped forward. "Tooth and claw, blood and bone."

The air in the safe room crackled with tension.

The bound man whimpered.

Delia said, "Lupin says Kemp will survive punishment. Is that true?"

Dix looked at Remus. "He should know."

Remus squared his shoulders against the pressure of questioning stares. His past was no one else's business. He told Dix, "If this is punishment, take off the muzzle. A pack wolf deserves the chance to defend himself."

"Were you allowed to fight?"

_Why was he asking?_

Dix smiled slightly.

Remus understood. Dix wanted to drive home the point that his leadership was far more liberal than Greyback's. "No," Remus said.

Dix unfastened the muzzle straps.

Kemp choked out, "Thank you." Tears streamed down his face.

Around Remus, pack members were nodding as if impressed by Dix's generosity. Although a few of the women seemed distressed by what was about to take place, not even Delia Bowen spoke against it.

Remus glanced up, past the skylight to the heavens beyond. The moon wasn't in view, and moonlight had not yet reached through the glass, but he could sense ethereal fingers quivering in eagerness. He strode across the room, away from the pack.

Cleave padded after him. "There's no use hiding in a dark corner, Lupin. You can't escape what you are."

"How old are you?" Remus asked.

Cleave frowned. "Twenty-nine." His tone asked what that had to do with anything.

"I've been a werewolf longer than you've been alive." Remus was tired of being goaded. "I'm well aware of what I become." He sat down and leaned back against the brick wall. The cement floor was cold and uncomfortable. He didn't care. Soon, trivialities like comfort would cease to matter.

Cleave returned to Dix's side. Remus lowered his eyes, not wanting to see Kemp. There was nothing more he could do to help the man.

A familiar pair of trainers stepped into view. Will dropped down to sit on the floor beside him. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I hoped Kemp had left the area of his own accord."

"Not Kemp! Greyback's punishment!"

Remus looked at the boy and shrugged. "You wouldn't have invited me to be your flatmate."

Will's mouth opened and closed several times before he said, "And I'd still think I couldn't do magic."

They sat quietly until Remus felt the change begin. He scrambled to his feet.

"What's wrong with you?" cried Will.

Pain drove Remus to his knees. He tried to crawl, frantic to distance himself.

Dix's voice rang out. "His wolf is strong to break free without moonlight."

Remus gritted his teeth, curling into a ball. He fought the change with all his strength, desperately holding onto humanity until he heard the cries and groans of others changing. Letting go was almost a relief. His last thought was of Nymphadora.

He prayed she wouldn't dream.

 

_The wolf opened his eyes to find himself in a strange cave with an unfamiliar pack. He sniffed the air. There was no trace of his mate. Where was she?_

_While the others frolicked together like overgrown pups, he searched for the entrance. He would leave and find his mate._

_On the far side of the cave, he found the entrance blocked. The barrier smelled of dead wood but was strong as stone. He pushed with his body, clawing at the tiny gap which let fresh air into the cave. Nothing worked. The barrier remained in place._

_A questioning chuff brought his gaze to a she-wolf standing nearby. Her thick frame and dull coat could not compare to the slender body and smooth fur of his mate. His answering chuff was dismissive._

_She padded closer._

_He growled. His mate had eyes bright with youth and strength. This she-wolf looked past breeding age. He was not interested._

_A howl split the night._

_The wolf obeyed the authoritative call for attention, turning to the one who stood stiff-legged and tall in the middle of the cave—the pack alpha. At his side was a larger wolf who stood relaxed with fur bristled slightly: the beta._

_On the ground beside the alpha, an older pack member whined like a pup. He jerked away only to pull up short, halted by restraints._

_Instinctively, the wolf bared his teeth in reaction. He remembered how it felt to be held by unnatural bonds._

_The alpha snarled and nipped the prisoner. A yelp echoed against stone. The alpha barked commandingly._

_A she-wolf with yellowish underfur padded over to rub her muzzle against the alpha's snout. After nuzzling her mate, the alpha female pounced on the captive and almost playfully bit an ear. Blood trickled down his fur._

_Yowls of pain acted as signal to the pack. The beta rushed forward. Wolves swarmed after him. Unable to escape, the bound wolf lunged at the tormentors who attacked him from every side. It became a game. Pack members took turns nipping and scratching while avoiding their pack-mate's snapping jaws._

_The wolf who watched them turned away to dig at the crevice between the stone and dead wood. He ignored the female lying nearby._

_Eventually, the two that remained beside the barrier were the only ones who had not made their mark on the one being punished. The alpha gave a sharp bark. The she-wolf walked slowly forward. Tail tucked between her legs, she approached the bloody figure on the ground and nipped his back leg. He whimpered. She turned away._

_The alpha and beta padded over to the wolf continuing to claw the stone-like wood in an effort to dig his way out of the cave. The deep, rumbling noise made by the beta was a warning. The alpha chuffed and looked back at the captive._

_The pair had given an ultimatum. Either the wolf joined in punishing the captive, or he would be made omega: the scapegoat, lowest in the pack._

_There was no real choice. The wolf was alpha of his own pack. He would not become omega in this one. Omegas were not allowed to mate. He loped past the two, shouldering his way through the pack. In a burst of motion, he lunged forward, biting the prisoner on the soft pad of his front paw. Blood spurted. The howls of the pack drowned out yelps of pain._

_The wolf resumed his position near the crack in the barrier. He lay down with his snout on his paws. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply in hopes of catching the scent of his mate._

 

 

Tonks looked down at the piece of jade in her hand. "I want to be with Remus," she said, her voice loud in the silent attic. Feeling like an idiot for believing Annis Black, she slipped the rock beneath her pillow and lay down on the mattress. After a minute, she rolled off the bed and strode over to the wardrobe. Her MegaMaggot tee and red slipper socks didn't seem proper attire.

_Knock, Knock!_

"Who's there?" she called out, laughing a little.

"Jerry."

She grinned, opening the door. "Jerry who?"

He didn't get the knock-knock joke reference. Her Auror partner was staring at her, wide-eyed. "Are you going out somewhere?"

Tonks glanced down and hastily fastened her cloak to cover bare legs. "No. I was just going to bed."

"As Little Red Riding Hood?"

"It's a Cardinal cloak," she said, stroking the scarlet cloth. "Warm and comfy with a satin lining. Remus gave it to me." She sighed at the memory of sitting on his lap, listening to him read  _Larcernella Rubra_ out of his mother's book of fairy tales in Latin.

"Oh." Jerry held out a black velvet money pouch. Galleons and Sickles clinked together. "You left this downstairs."

She took it, shaking her head. "Shows I need sleep, huh? Ta, thanks."

"No problem. Goodnight."

"'Night."

Jerry started to leave and then turned back. "If your room isn't warm enough I know a charm, or I could transfigure you another quilt."

"It's fine," she said. "And you already did your good deed for today, so you're covered."

He flashed a sheepish smile. "The Scout Law says to help people at all times."

Tonks said, "If you want to help me tomorrow morning, knock on the door a half hour before we're expected to make rounds. I might sleep through the alarm."

"OK. Goodnight."

She affected a granny voice. "Bless you, sonny! You're a credit to scouting!"

Jerry chuckled.

Tonks waggled her fingers in farewell and ducked back into the attic. She settled on the bed and closed her eyes, consciously tensing and relaxing her muscles. I want to be with Remus _,_  she thought over and over, until her eyes grew heavy and her mind drifted like a cloud into the realm of dreams.

_She ran through the forest, calling his name. There was barely enough moonlight to light the path. She stumbled and almost fell, wishing for one tenth the grace her body displayed as an animal. The wind whooshed through the trees. Snowflakes drifted down from the branches. Even with a cloak, knee-high boots, and a Warming Charm, Tonks shivered. It wasn't from the cold. The forest wasn't safe._

_Where was Remus?_

_She decided to go to the cave. He could be there, waiting._

_Once she left the forest, she could see the full moon. On this night, there was a reddish cast to the pale radiance. It was the Blood Moon. "Goes with my outfit," Tonks said to herself. She lifted the full red skirt trimmed in black to keep the hem from dragging across the snow. Trousers would have been much more practical. "Bloody fairy tales," she muttered. "Putting daft thoughts of a grown-up version of Little Red Riding Hood into my head."_

_She had reached the stream where she and the wizard scouts once rested. Tonks was about to sit on a low boulder when she heard a growl. Startled, she tried to rise, lost her footing, and toppled sideways to the ground. When she lifted her head, Tonks was face to face with a werewolf. Her heart leapt. "Remus."_

_He sniffed the air. In a motion that made her breath catch, the wolf lowered his muzzle to sniff her hair. She shivered when canine teeth gently nibbled the strands. "Bet I had a leaf in my hair," she whispered, reaching out to sift through his fur with trembling fingers._

_The werewolf gave a chuff and wheeled around to trot up the hillside._

_"Where you lead, I'll follow," said Tonks. She pushed herself to her feet and shook out her skirt. "So much for keeping my dress tidy."_

_By the time they reached the pile of rocks that concealed the entrance to the cave, heavy snow was falling. She didn't even try to climb. Tonks levitated over._

_The wolf gave a short bark when her feet touched the ground._

_"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying," she said, brushing off snowflakes as she trailed him into the cave. "Brr...This place is in dire need of some light, warmth and comfort." She cast a few charms and then sat down on what she considered their spot._

_The wolf watched her intently from a few metres away. His eyes glowed amber._

_She held out her hand. "I don't know why I didn't change. I kept chanting that I wanted to be with you. I just didn't say how. I'm sorry." Tonks bent as low as she could, keeping her hand outstretched. "Remus, come to me." Her eyes pricked with tears. "Please."_

_He took a step and then another._

_Tonks closed her eyes in relief and joy when his snout nudged her fingertips. "Remus...Remus," she whispered, longing to throw her arms around him. She didn't. He wasn't a tame wolf. She was grateful that he chose to lie down beside her, and that when she stroked his fur, he allowed the contact. She caressed him until the motion lulled her to sleep._

_When she awoke, morning sunlight had entered the cave. Her fingers were no longer tangled in the ruff of fur framing the face of a wolf. Brown hair flecked with grey spilled across her hand. She gazed into amber, human eyes and kissed the man she loved. "Remus."_

_His lips moved beneath hers, firm and seductive. "Nymphadora."_

_She unfastened her cloak and let it fall. "It's been so long."_

_Remus caressed her body in a far less innocent fashion than she'd stroked the wolf. "Not here," he said. "Not like animals."_

_The open-mouthed kiss he pressed to her throat caused desire to flare sharply. Tonks closed her eyes. When she opened them, she and Remus were no longer in the cave. They were lying on a carpet of white flowers inside a fairy ring. Outside the enchanted circle, snow blanketed the ground. She looked down at him and smiled. "Will this do?"_

_"It's warm and we're naked." Remus rolled Tonks onto her back, grinning wolfishly. "It will do beautifully."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any Three Days Grace fans, the lines Will sang of the MegaMaggot song was an homage to the Muggle band’s Animal I Have Become. Fan fic sites can be touchy about quoting song lyrics, so I changed them to fit a werewolf songwriter.


	16. Waiting to Fly

 

 

_Their kiss was dreamily erotic, slow and deep. Tonks wanted more. The press of Remus's lips and body made her long to be closer. She arched in invitation, lightly raking her nails down his back._

_He groaned._

_At that instant, a capricious wind blew through the circle, sweeping flowers into the air to create a blizzard of white petals. Remus pulled away._

_"No! Don't leave me," she cried, reaching out. "I need you!"_

_Her grasping fingers touched skin, clasped warm fingers. She pressed a kiss to the palm before sliding the hand down to cover her heart._

_Blinded by the whirlwind of flowers, she heard peals of fairy laughter and something else._

_"Uh, Tonks?" said a faint voice. "You need to wake up."_

 

It was the mother of rude awakenings.

She was sprawled on the bed, cloak open, staring up at her wide-eyed Auror partner and clutching his hand to her breast.

Jerry held both hands up when she thrust the one she held away from her body. "You—erm—asked me to come by," he said, backing away. "When you didn't answer, I tried the door and . . .." He stumbled against a trunk. After regaining his balance, he said, "It opened."

Tonks climbed off the mattress, keeping her cloak tightly closed.

"I thought you were having a bad dream," Jerry said, "So I, uh, tried to wake you gently."

_And I grabbed you._ "I'm sorry."

"Don’t be. Anybody could forget to reset the wards."

Jerry was so bloody nice it made her feel even worse. "That isn't what I meant."

"I know." A flush highlighted his boyish freckles. "Really. It's all right."

Tonks shook her head. "I feel like I molested a wizard scout!"

Jerry's expression became unreadable. "I haven't been a scout for a long time."

Her laugh was short. "I'm not a molester; I'm just a sexual harasser? Yeah, that's so much better." She crossed her arms, blinking to fight back tears of embarrassment.

"You didn't harass me, you were dreaming." He took a step toward her. "Don't overreact. I said it was all right and I meant it."

He sounded earnest. She asked, "You won't be like Dawlish and think I'm a sex-starved nymphomaniac?"

Jerry's brows drew together. "A nymphomaniac wouldn't be sex-starved."

Despite her chagrin, Tonks felt her lips twitch. "Sex-crazed, then."

"No."

He was looking down—at her fuzzy socks? She wriggled her toes. "Not exactly Nympho gear, huh?"

Jerry smiled.

Tonks was tempted to let that be the end of the conversation, but she had to ask, "So everything's cool? Things won't be weird?"

His face was unreadable again. "Why would things be weird?"

Merlin, she felt awkward. "Look," she said. "You're my only real friend here. I don't want—"  _An accidental grope. "—_ anything to mess that up."

"It won't."

His tone was so sure, Tonks began to relax. "So we can forget about it?"  _I won't tell Remus, you won't tell your mother, we'll stay mates, and it'll be like it never happened?_

"Forget what?" Jerry looked at his watch. "We have patrol in fifteen minutes."

She went to the trunk and threw open the lid. "Here." She handed him a beer stein sized mug. "I'll meet you at the Hog's Head in ten minutes."

Jerry looked at her with raised eyebrows. "There's a picture of a coffee mug on your coffee mug."

"It's an old joke. My cousin Lora gave me the mug with a t-shirt that says 'Coffee drinkers are good in the sack'." The strange expression on Jerry’s face made her worry he was reconsidering his opinion of her as a non-sex maniac. “Look at the time!" Tonks said, giving him a push toward the door. "I'll take three sugars."

When the door closed, she heaved a sigh of relief before racing to the shower.

 

 

One moment, Remus was lost in a dream. The next, he found himself shaken back to reality.

Delia Bowen shook his arm again. Her face was puffy and lined with fatigue. "Wake up, Lupin, and for stars' sake quit groaning," she said. "A man your age...with the hormones of a teenager...it's disgusting!"

Remus had never experienced dreams that sensual when he was a teenager. If he had, he would've spent most of his youth sleeping. "I'm awake," he said quietly. He sat up, glancing around to see if anyone else had been disturbed by his "groaning." A few people were stirring, but none looked his way.

Delia snorted. "I woke you before you murdered anyone else's sleep."

"You read Shakespeare?" Remus tried not to sound surprised. No-nonsense and curt, she didn't seem the type to enjoy literature, much less a play like  _Macbeth_.

"No. I remembered the line from Muggle Studies." Delia's lip curled. "I bet you read the sonnets to your girlfriend."

"No, she prefers fairy tales in Latin." The sour look he received made Remus wish he'd simply replied in the negative. Apparently, his relationship with Nymphadora triggered Delia's lingering issues with her ex-husband. He rose to his feet. "Do you need assistance freeing Kemp?" he asked to shift the topic of conversation.

Delia threw a wary glance toward Dix. "Shouldn't we wait for permission?"

"If he objects, he'll say so." Remus strode toward the bound man.

For someone who had spent most the night in torment, Kemp was amazingly cheerful. "Look at me, barely a scratch left unhealed," he said, holding out arms a shade paler than his stained white shirt. "Magic's a wondrous thing."

Wounds had healed, but mottled bruises and dried blood remained. Remus stared at the man's hands. He was responsible for some of that blood.

"Thanks, mate," Kemp said when his bonds were undone. "That was the worst of it, not bein' able to move." He flashed a grin at Delia. "See? Told you things would work out."

Her expression was stony. "What about next time?"

Kemp crossed his heart with a red-stained finger. "Won't be a next time."

"Hey," growled a voice behind them. "Nobody said to free the prisoner, old man. Who do you think you are?"

Remus turned to face Travis. Wryly, he acknowledged that to a man in his early twenties, he must seem old. "I'm—"

"Delta," said Dix. He prowled forward. "Third in the pack. Are you formally challenging his position?"

Travis, tall and muscular, smirked at Remus.

Cleave stepped in front of Travis. He made the other man look puny. "If you are, you'll have to go through me."

"I offer no challenge." Travis glared at Remus before stalking over to a group of younger pack members. He made a beeline for Will, pushing him roughly. "What are you gawking at, Squib?"

Will's face contorted.

Travis cried out in pain. "You hexed me!" He held up a hand. An angry red welt sliced across the back.

Will looked at Remus. "I'm not a Squib," he said proudly.

The corner of Remus's mouth tilted up. He was feeling rather proud himself.

Brenda clapped her hands to gain everyone's attention. "I've got gammon steaks and sausages waitin' in the kitchen!"

Remus's stomach rumbled at the thought of ham and sausage.

"I'll fry eggs or grill tomatoes—anything you need," Kemp said eagerly.

Brenda's eyes went to Dix. He nodded. She said, "I could use the help. Mind you wash up first."

Remus watched the others file out of the safe room. Some appeared deathly weary from the change, while others hadn't been werewolves long enough to feel the after-effects that increased over time. He himself should have been bone tired and unable to stomach anything except tea. His hunger for meat was due to his bond with Nymphadora. As Dix had said, his wolf—the darkness he battled to weaken—was strong.

Soon, only two people remained.

Dix broke the silence. "When I've been a werewolf as long as you have, Lupin, I want to possess the strength to change the instant the moon is full, with or without moonlight. I want to be strong enough to rise to my feet the morning after—strong enough to remain Alpha of this pack. That's why I made you Delta. I want what you have."

_I'm strong because of my mate._   _And you can't have her._

Dix's mask of urbanity slipped to reveal the feral beneath. "I want the power of blood magic."

Remus felt a chill that had nothing to do with a draft of cold air. Hadn't this fear lingered at the back of his mind since Dix expressed interest in meeting Nymphadora? "It wasn't about power," he said. "Aside from that, the circumstances aren't the same. The spell, even if she could remember it, wasn't created for two werewolves. If attempted, the results could be—"

"Powerful."

"Dangerous. I've done the research," Remus said firmly. "Blood magic can lead to what is called  _Theft of Vitae._ Your bond could drain your wife of her vitality or rob you of yours."

"Brenda and I are willing to take that chance," Dix said. He gestured to the open door. "Let's go eat some steaks."

Remus's appetite was gone, but he forced himself to nod, and later, to eat.

When they returned to the flat, Will was too tired for lessons. The boy dove onto a futon without unfolding the mattress. "G'night," he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his head. "Wake me if Lillie owls or it's time to eat again."

Upstairs, Remus took a shower and then stood beside the window. In his cage, Stryx shifted upon his perch. Remus gave the owl a treat, wondering if his lover was equally restless, waiting for him to contact her. "You wouldn't like it if you anticipated flying and were told you couldn't leave the cage, would you?" he asked. Stryx stared at him unblinkingly. "I didn't think so."

He walked over to the bed and sat down, gazing into his communication mirror. "Nymphadora."

It took a few minutes for her face to appear. "Sorry," she said. "Dawlish called us into his office after our patrol. I'd think his miserable arse wanted company if he hadn't gloated over assigning us the midnight watch." She covered a yawn. "Sorry again. I had wild dreams last night." Her smile was enticingly cheeky. "My second-favourite reason for lack of sleep."

Remus could almost hear Delia say "a man of your age...with the hormones of a teenager...disgusting!" He disagreed. To feel intensely alive and in love made life worthwhile.

Nymphadora blew him a kiss. "So, when can I visit and lose sleep in my favourite way?"

Instead of answering directly, he shared what had happened during the full moon and afterwards. He left out that the right to mate was the wolf's true interest in pack status.

Nymphadora was sympathetic, yet practical. "You did what you had to do," she said. "Kemp's all right and Dix…." She made a face. "He's a good businessman, selling you the Delta position for a high price, but arrogant to think blood magic will work for them the way it's worked for us."

"It's more than arrogance," Remus said. "It's fear. In pack society, strength is power, status, and leadership. Lose it and you lose everything."

"Then why doesn't he just take Wolfsbane Potion? It lessens the effect of the change almost as well. He's rich," she said with a trace of envy. "He can afford to buy it off the black market."

"Greyback brands anyone who uses it as weak and unfit to be Alpha."

Her face didn't fall. It brightened. "Then you can use that to get Dix to think for himself—move away from Greyback's control!" Her expression became calculating. "After I tell Dix that I don't remember the spell."

"But you do remember," Remus said. "If you're given a truth potion, you won't be able to lie."

Nymphadora smiled triumphantly. "It won't be a lie. The memory of the spell and where I found it will be gone."

"How?"

"Snape."

His response was instinctive. "No." Although Dumbledore's word was enough to believe in Severus's loyalty to the order, the man's personal grudges made Remus wary of trusting him with Nymphadora's memory.

Her chin had a stubborn tilt. "Yes. It's my decision and I'm doing it."

"The way you decided to remain a woman in your dream." Her willfulness goaded him into bringing up a subject he had planned to discuss another time. "You knew how I felt about that, and you chose to do it anyway."

"I didn't choose—"

"Yes, you did."

"Why?" she challenged. "Why would I do that?" She seemed honestly unaware.

Remus exhaled heavily. "You wanted to achieve a goal...and you succeeded." He looked into eyes now mirroring his own disquiet and said, "The wolf didn't just answer to your voice. He answered to my name."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Remus Delta instead of Gamma? It's because even though scientific literature uses Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, etc to name the hierarchy of a pack, real wolves (ie people who RP wolves in packs online) don't! Why not? Simple. Delta is cool, while Gamma is Geeky. :D. Just imagining Dix saying "Gamma" makes me giggle. Uh uh, no way! As for the old joke, it's from one of those "You know you've had too much coffee when" lists. The t-shirt with "Coffee drinkers are good in the sack" I changed from the original version, a bumper sticker. :D. The research Remus mentioned was done in ch 10 of From the Battered Journal of Remus J Lupin, before he learned that while Tonks is an irresistible force, he's not an immovable object! If anyone wonders if he'll be learning that lesson again in the near future, it won't be long until you find out. Next chapter is Halloween. Bet you know what costume Tonks will wear!


	17. The Path of Waiting

 

 

Tonks tried to mask her reaction, but Remus was watching too closely.

"You were about to smile. You're  _pleased."_

His disappointed professor tone brought out her cheeky schoolgirl. "No, I almost laughed because I thought you were going to say my goal was to make love when you changed back, and I wouldn't have been able to deny it."

He looked puzzled. "Why laugh?"

"Embarrassment." She chuckled in unconscious demonstration. "I guess it's been too long since I've kissed something besides this mirror." When her conscience brought up mistaking Jerry's hand for Remus's, she pushed the memory away.  _That doesn't count!_

"But you are pleased the wolf answers to my name."

Remus must have been a brilliant professor, always guiding class discussion in the direction he wanted it to go. Tonks's cheekiness became defiance. "Why shouldn't I be? It means the wolf doesn't just accept my dual nature—he's starting to realise he has one too!"

Remus was shaking his head before she finished. "That doesn't bode well."

"You taught Defence Against Dark Arts, not Divination. You can't say that."

His tone sharpened. "It doesn't take Sight to see where this is leading."

"Where's that? Down the primrose path? The wolf isn't leading me astray."

"I fear your emotions are. What happens if the wolf realises that his mate's true form is human? He could turn on you."

She stared into the communication mirror, loving his concern while hating his dark view of the wolf. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. If they were in the same room, she would pin him to the bed and kiss him so hard.

"You act without thinking," Remus said.

"And you think too much!" she cried in frustration. "Why should he care? He's an animal who doesn't know the difference between dreams and reality! When I'm a wolf it's real to him. That's all that matters!" She counted to ten to calm down. It took a while. She counted in Latin and spent several moments wondering whether  _quinque_  or  _quintus_  was the cardinal number five. In the end, she remembered it was  _quinque_  and went on to  _sex._ "Gods, Remus," she said finally. "I want to be with you, not have a row."

"I don't want to argue either," he said.

She tried to smile. "I'm only stuck in Hogsmeade for a few more days. I'll come see you as soon as I can."

Remus's expression remained grave. "I'm not sure that would be wise. The flat could be under surveillance."

"Then we'll meet somewhere else—one of those cheap Muggle hotels by the motorway. No one would see us."

"The risk is too great," Remus said. "If Dix learns blood magic . . . ."

"It won't be from me. I'll go see Snape right away."

"No."

"Yes. Haven't we already been over this? I understand why you don't want Dumbledore to know—his good opinion means a lot to you—but if you trust Snape not to tell him, you can trust him to help me."

"At what price?"

"I'll tell you when I find out."

Remus looked ready to argue.

She said quickly, "I'm not proud. He can send me to collect centaur spoor by hand or sort Jobberknoll feathers with my teeth for all I care. I'll do whatever it takes."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Tonks dug her fingernails into her palm. "First you fear my emotions, and now you're afraid of what I'll do. I'm only trying to help!"

"I don't doubt that for an instant, but to allow Severus—"

"It's the only way," she said.

"It doesn't have to be. There is an alternative."

Her stomach twisted. When his lips parted, she rushed to speak. "Dix told you to bring me to the October meeting. I have to be there. He won't believe I couldn't make it."

"He will if I tell him we've parted ways." His mouth turned down at the corners. "If say I was too old, too poor, and too dangerous for you."

"Eff that!”

"It would only be temporary, until I convince Dix that Wolfsbane Potion gives benefits without risks."

How could Remus suggest they not be together? How could he say such awful things about himself? "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she said, "and I'm off to see Snape."

 

It was impossible to Apparate while crying, so after finding a specific item, she walked the path to the castle. Tonks was bitterly glad no one saw her. She probably looked like a mental case, scrubbing away tears with the back of her hands and muttering words far less polite than "eff."

At Hogwarts, classes had not yet let out for lunch, so she decided to wait in Snape's office. The door didn't open. Tonks kicked it. "Paranoid git, only giving me temporary access."

She dug a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill out of a pocket. Once she scratched out a short note, Tonks folded the paper into an airplane and waved her wand to send her personal memo on its way. Afterward, she paced for a while and then sat down, leaning back against the wall next to the ironbound door.

When Madam Pomfrey came swishing her way down the corridor, sounding as though her stockings were rubbing together, Tonks groaned inwardly.  _Merlin's beard, Pomfrey spends more time in the dungeons than Snape! Does she have his schedule memorised, spend her nights planning "casual" visits to discuss potions for the hospital wing? The woman's a bloody stalker!_

Tonks wished she had used a Disillusionment Charm, or at least was standing instead of sitting cross-legged. She didn't look like an Auror on official business.

She pushed herself to her feet. "Wotcher, Madam Pomfrey."

The mediwitch peered at her closely. "Are you in need of a potion?"

_Let me guess, crying plays hell on the complexion._ "I need to talk to Severus."

Pomfrey's over-plucked brows rose in exaggerated surprise. "He didn't adjust the wards for you?" Her tone said,  _Doesn't he trust you in his private office?_

"He wasn't expecting me."

"Then how—" Pomfrey's voice broke off when soft footsteps were heard.

Snape glided toward them in his usual bat-like manner, robes billowing dramatically. Tonks had to admire the man's tailor. She saw the paper airplane he held between two fingers and said, "You got my note."

"It's pink."

The way he enunciated each word made it easy to imagine the reaction of students to such a note landing on their professor's desk. Tonks said, "Bubble gum. My favourite colour. Knew it was from me, didn't you?"

He looked down his nose at her. "Indeed."

Madam Pomfrey smirked over his disdain.

Snape said, "I have arranged for lunch in my quarters. I will join you after I discuss whatever  _issue_  has brought Madam Pomfrey to my office."

His sardonic tone brought a flush to Pomfrey's cheeks. Tonks felt sympathy for the woman until she received a dirty look. She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at the witch in return. It wasn't her fault Snape was snarky!

"I'll try not to keep you too long, Severus," Pomfrey said in a carrying tone as Tonks walked away. "She's already waited once in a drafty corridor, poor thing."

"An oversight that will not be repeated," Snape replied smoothly. "Nymphadora is welcome in my private quarters."

Tonks smirked until she entered Snape's lounge. Her jaw immediately dropped. Candles floated around the room. The long ends of silver ribbons tied around beeswax tapers hung down like streamers. A green damask cloth covered a round table flanked by small chairs upholstered to match. On a mahogany tea trolley, finger sandwiches and teacakes waited on silver trays alongside champagne on ice.

She had transitioned from horror to amusement by the time Snape joined her. "I think your house-elf went overboard," she said. "It's like Madam Puddifoot went Slytherin."

Snape swatted a ribbon away from his face. "The stuff of nightmares."

Tonks almost laughed, but didn't think that would help the situation. "Yeah," she said lightly, "so how about I get rid of the candles, you fix the table, switch the champagne to a pot of tea, and we pretend this never happened?" She made a face. "It would be good practice."

He had already transformed the table into a long rectangle. "Practice for what?"

She waved her wand. Another group of candles vanished. "For you to erase a memory." Tonks looked up. "I think I'll get rid of ribbons instead of the whole candle on the last few, or we won't be able to see our food." She shot spells as she talked.

"What memory—and why?"

_One more to go._ "The memory of the blood magic spell I used to bind Remus and where I got it from, because..."  _Because I refuse to be separated from him._ "Because it could ruin lives and Remus's chance to turn the Salford leader against Greyback." Briefly, she told him about the situation with Dix and the October meeting.

His gaze became piercing. "Does such a chance truly exist?"

"It would be a start."

When he finished his Legilimens truth check or whatever he was doing, Snape waved her to a chair and took a seat. She muttered a quick Sanitising Spell for her hands and began divvying up the food.

"I do not care for egg," Snape said.

Tonks placed the triangle of egg and watercress sandwich onto her plate and lifted another. "Here. I like pears, but not with cheese." She handed over a pear and stilton sandwich. "Cheddar and chutney's good, though."

He made a non-committal grunt.

It took all the willpower she could dredge up to keep quiet when she was bursting with questions. Would he help her? How would he do it? When? What would he expect in return?

After Snape was finished eating, he sat back in his chair, regarding her with fathomless eyes. "You say you wish this memory  _gone._ Where do you expect it to go?"

She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. "Don't Memory Charms erase memory?"

"Not precisely. One forgets or receives a false memory. Unless you are highly skilled in Occlumency, however, the right questioning with Veritaserum would reveal your knowledge of blood magic even though you have forgotten it." His voice lowered. "I have seen minds broken by spells used to reverse Memory Charms."

Tonks thought of Cami. "Could I store it in a Penseive?"

"Yes—if you can accept that your memory is viewable to any wretch who sticks their head in it."

Did he speak from personal experience? Had Dumbledore seen something Snape regretted? As much as she wanted to know, she chose a safer question. “What can I do, then?"

"Transfer the memory to a person who becomes your Secret Keeper."

She was confused. "Wouldn't I be the Secret Keeper?"

"You would not remember asking me to take the memory. You would only know you were bound to the wolf somehow."

"What about Remus? He knows I'm here, and why."

"He approved?"

"No."

Snape curled his lip. "Willingly or not, he becomes a different kind of Secret Keeper."

Tonks chose a strawberry cut to look like a flower with cream piped into the centre. After chewing thoughtfully, she said, "If I don't remember you taking the memory, why will I think I came here?"

"This—Dix person—may ask questions about your identity. You and Lupin require potions to circumvent Veritaserum."

The second strawberry Tonks picked up fell to the plate. Her fingers were nerveless with shock. "There's an antidote to Veritaserum?"

Snape exhaled sharply. "Once again you demonstrate the reason you never received high marks in my class."

At least he wasn't calling her a dunderhead. "Your potion isn't an antidote?"

"No. It merely enhances the human ability to speak partial truth."

She recalled the ways Aurors questioned suspects who attempted to get around the compulsion to answer truthfully. "So if Dix asks what my full name is, I could say 'Nym' without flushing or gasping for breath."  _And even if Cleave can do what he told Remus, he won't be able to smell the lie._

"Yes."

Tonks leaned forward. "What do you want in return?"

Snape settled back into his chair. "What are you offering?"

"To start, my silence about your potion."

He made a steeple of long fingers. "What makes you think the Ministry hasn't secretly used it for years?"

It was sad that she wouldn't put it past them. "Have they?"

Snape's eyes gleamed. "What else do you offer?"

She reached into a robe pocket to withdraw a cloth-wrapped bundle.

When she revealed the green-gold obsidian knife, Snape said, "You have already agreed to trade it after you learn to brew Wolfsbane Potion."

"Why wait? Take it now." She balanced it across the flat of her palms like a sword, holding her arms outstretched.

Snape took the handle—and swiftly drew the blade across her skin.

Tonks stared in disbelief at the blood pooling in her hands. She shook with hurt and anger. Before she could react, Snape cast a Healing Charm. "The Dark Lord requires constant demonstrations of loyalty," he said while clearing blood off the knife and table. "An ancient instrument of sacrifice will be deemed a worthy gift—now that it has spilled human blood."

Tears sprang to her eyes. She fought to keep her voice steady. "You could have told me."  _You calculating bastard!_

"Unwilling blood was required."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. "My blood created a Dark object?"

Snape's tone cooled. "Do you consider the price too high?"

She was an Auror. Her job was to confiscate Dark objects, not create them. "No," she said reluctantly. Her hands clenched into fists. "But if this table wasn't so long, I'd punch you in the face."

He unfolded from the chair and strode toward the door.

Tonks bolted to her feet. She wanted to deck him, not change his mind about helping her! "Where are you going?"

"I will post a silent reading assignment and essay for the next class to complete during my absence." He paused at the door. "You will be here when I return?"

Unspoken were the questions:  _Do you still wish me to remove the memory? Can you trust me?_

Did she have a choice? She didn't believe Dix would instantly agree to use black market Wolfsbane Potion if Remus told him they broke up. He was more than capable of trying to track her down. What would happen then? "I'm going to send an express owl to Remus," she said. "Tell him I've found a way to dump the memory, and I'm sorry he doesn't want me to, but it's my decision to make. That should cover him with Dix if he needs it." She took a deep breath. "I'll hurry, and I'll be waiting."

 

Tonks returned to Hogsmeade in a bright mood. It took a few weeks to brew the counter potion to Veritaserum, but Snape would have it done before Halloween. Why had Remus been so against asking for help? Their row—what she could remember—seemed silly. Everything would work out fine!

She decided to celebrate with a drink at the Broomsticks. "Wotcher, Rosmerta!" she called when her landlady looked up from polishing a glass. Tonks glanced around the empty pub. "Slow day, today."

"Lunch crowd's gone back to work." Rosmerta set the glass on a shelf. "What can I get you?"

"Something fruity, festive and non-alcoholic since I'm on duty."

"Here. Try this. I discovered it in the Bahamas."

"Perfect," Tonks said, admiring the drink's turquoise blue colour. She took a sip. "Mmm." A thought struck. "It's almost October. D'you want your money now or on the first?"

“Money?” Rosmerta picked a Galleon up off the bar. "I don't want your money."

"I can't let the attic for free," Tonks said. "I'm given a housing allowance."

Rosmerta stared down at the Galleon, avoiding eye contact. "I don't want to let the attic anymore," she said. "I've changed my mind. I want privacy."

Tonks felt like a hex had stunned her. She and Rosmerta weren't mates, but they got along. "Am I playing my orbs too loud?" she asked. "I'll remember to shut the windows. The rest of the attic's soundproofed."

"I'm sorry. I want you out by the first. There's room at the Hog's Head." Rosmerta spoke in a monotone, as though she were reading from a script.

_She should have practiced in front of a mirror. Maybe she'd sound less like an unfeeling bitch!_

Tonks didn't know what to say. There was no written lease—not even a verbal agreement that spelled out the terms of her tenancy. She could insist on a thirty-day notice, but why would she live where she wasn't welcome anymore?

Pride made her finish the drink. Tonks walked out of the Broomsticks and kept walking until she reached the Hog's Head.

None of her fellow Aurors were in the pub.  _At least I'm spared that humiliation._ Tonks headed to the bar. "Do you have another room available?"

The barkeep's grizzled eyebrows drew together. "Thought you was cosy down at the Broomsticks."

_So did I._ Tonks shrugged. "It didn't work out."

He considered her for a minute. "Room's small."

She'd find somewhere else to be with Remus. "I don't care."

"You'd have to share a bathroom."

She'd practice her Scouring Spells and get used to seeing the toilet lid up. "Fine."

"No cooking allowed."

"OK."

"Paid by the month, in advance, with a month's deposit."

"I'll be by tomorrow with a Gringotts paid-to-bearer certificate." She nodded briskly and made her way to Dawlish's office.

"Enter," he said when she knocked.

It took effort to look him in the eye and say, "I wanted to let you know that I'll be moving into the Hog's Head."

"Why?"

Tonks swallowed hard. "Rosmerta wants more privacy."

Dawlish looked pleased and self-conscious at the same time. "She said those exact words?"

"Yes, sir."

He almost smiled. "You'll need time to pack. I'll put Savage on your afternoon patrol. Take the rest of the day off."

"Thank you, sir."  _I know why you’re so generous. Enjoy your PRIVACY with Rosmerta!_

The first thing Tonks did when she returned to the attic was contact Remus. "Come see me," she said, the moment his face appeared in the mirror.

"What's wrong?"

"I got the rest of the day off, and I'd rather spend it with you than packing."

"Why are you packing?"

She told him about wanting to celebrate Snape agreeing to brew the potion and repeated her conversation with Rosmerta. "I need you," she said. "Please come see me."  _Say yes, or I'll cry like a baby._

 

 

Remus didn't hesitate. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He broke the magical link and slid the mirror into his pocket, gathering his cloak from the desktop and placing the letter he had received into a drawer.

_Nymphadora doesn't even remember sending it._ A rueful smile tugged at his lips.  _Hard to stay angry with someone who doesn't know what they've done to provoke you._ He was still frustrated by her willingness to risk anything to protect him, but he understood her motives. Wouldn't he give up everything—including personal happiness—to keep her safe from harm?

In the lounge, Will was poring over a book of spells. "What's the lesson for today, professor?" he asked.

"Practice  _Evanesco_ on the mess in the kitchen," Remus said. "I'm going out."

Will grinned. "I tried to conjure a toasted cheese sandwich. Don't know how the bread turned to ash while the cheese spread over the counter like lava. Talent, I guess. Where're you going?"

Remus decided to trust him with the truth. "To see Nym."

Will's eyes flickered to the window. "I'd take the long way, if you know what I mean. I've seen Travis and Haas across the street, and they don't live there."

"Thank you."

"Thank me by bringing back a steak."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Yeah, me too," Will said, flipping pages to look up Cleaning Charms, most likely.

Outside the flat, Remus kept his pace slow until he reached the closest wizard-run pub. He quickly Flooed to the Manchester station. There, he waited until Travis and Haas exited and caught sight of him to Floo to Diagon Alley. In London, he bought a bouquet of spicy-scented miniature carnations, pulled up his hood, and went directly to a pub at the end of Knockturn Alley. The Rock Troll guarding the Sleazy Kneazle accepted the bribe he offered for use of the Floo. Remus left the troll munching on carnations and returned to Manchester. After a final wait to ensure he was no longer followed, he Flooed to Hogsmeade.

Remus staggered onto the hearth of the Hog's Head. When the world stopped tilting, he lurched toward the bar. "Nauseous No More," he said, slapping Galleons onto the scarred oak.

"How many times did you Floo in the last hour?" the barkeep asked in a confidential tone.

"Four." Remus drank the potion with one hand keeping his hood in place.

"That's nothing. I once Flooed a dozen times and thought I'd chuck up a lung."

"Impressive," Remus murmured, thankful the urge to "chuck" had passed.

The moment he Apparated to the attic of the Broomsticks, Remus heard a sound that wrenched his heart. In the corner partitioned into a bathroom, he found Nymphadora lying in the bathtub, trying to cry silently. He crouched down beside the tub, painfully aware of what she was feeling. It hurt to be treated unfairly. Through the years, numerous employers and landlords had asked him to leave. No feeble excuse had ever lessened the sting of knowing his presence was unwanted.

"Nymphadora," he said softly.

She looked at him through eyelashes spiky with tears. "I'm not upset," she said thickly. "I'm hacked off that I'll have to squeeze my gear into a pokey room and clean the shower before I use it so I don't get foot fungus!"

He had always hidden his sorrow beneath what Sirius called "infuriating stoicism." Nymphadora used anger. "I'm sorry," Remus said simply.

She clambered out of the tub to throw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're here." She buried her face against his chest, hugging him tight.

As the water droplets from her body seeped into his clothes, Remus whispered, "So am I,” and brushed a kiss across hair that was beautiful any colour.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you slice an X in the top of a strawberry, it does look like a flower…made out of fruit. :D I would've chewed thoughtfully wondering if mascarpone and touch of vanilla and sugar had been added to the whipping cream, though, lol. The Memory Charm info was gleaned from the HP-Lexicon, Cleave claiming to smell lies was in ch 4, and the obsidian knife was from ch 7, when Tonks had to bring her own blades. Now everyone, including Tonks, knows why Snape wanted to trade. As for Tonks getting kicked out of the Broomsticks, Malfoy may not be as bright as Hermione, but he's clever enough to know an Auror living upstairs will put a crimp in his plans and use the Galleon for more than a Protean Charm! I wish I could've given Remus a longer pov this chapter and thrown in Halloween fun, but it had to be set up. Hopefully readers will view it as something to look forward to!


	18. Waiting for Halloween

 

 

Remus watched Nymphadora as she slept; his heart filled with sadness and love as he visually traced her features. Separation and grief had marked them both. Each of them was thinner, with sharp cheekbones. Her face retained a youthful softness his lacked, however. Her beauty had gained a sexy edge to it, while his reflection in the mirror looked tired and old.

He rubbed a fingertip across her thick black eyelashes. How long ago seemed the days when she playfully fluttered her lashes against his in butterfly kisses. It was even longer since they had used Disillusionment Charms to make love on a sun-swept beach. Their "honeymoon" on the Isle of Lewis was dream-like compared to the harsh reality of their present situation. Remus smiled faintly. He had always been a dreamer.

"Mmm." Nymphadora's fingers slid into his hair when he kissed her.

"I have to go," he said reluctantly.

She captured his mouth in a kiss that made Remus yearn never to leave. "Will won't starve if you're not there to feed him." Her dark eyes beguiled. "Stay a day or two. Help me pack. I'll be your love slave every minute I'm off duty."

Remus's muscles tightened. "I wish I could," he said. He resisted the urge to take her pouting bottom lip gently between his teeth.

Nymphadora exhaled sharply. "How did Dix ever run the pack without your brilliant counsel?"

"It isn't brilliant as much as experienced. One of the few blessings of age."

In an unexpected move, she pinned him to the mattress. "Don't talk down about yourself. I happen to love that  _experience._ " Her hands yanked his wrists over his head. "Take it back or I'll show you how much."

"I'd love for you to show me," he said, "but I have to get dressed." He kept his gaze off sulky, tempting lips.

She rolled to the side. "When will I see you—all of you—again?"

He felt her eyes caressing him as he pulled on clothing. It made zipping his trousers a hazardous affair. "Hopefully, soon," he said.

"It won't be soon enough for me." She wrapped him in a fierce hug. "I love you. Be safe."

Remus kissed Nymphadora tenderly. "I love you. Get some more sleep if you can."

Her smile was pert. "I will, and later, if you ask nicely, I'll tell you about the dream I had."

He raised an eyebrow. "What if you don't dream?"

She waggled her brows. "I'll make something up."

Remus chuckled at the thought and Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. Before he returned to Salford, there was a matter to discuss with Severus.

 

He didn't expect a Patronus to return with an answer. It was known in the Order that Severus chose to keep his Patronus private, although Sirius had sneered at the idea. He believed "Snivellus" had no happy thoughts.

Before a quarter of an hour had passed, Severus approached the iron gates. He stared through the bars impassively. "What exactly do you wish to know, Lupin?"

"The memory—"

"Be careful what you ask."

That was a given. Anything he learned, Dix could potentially learn also. "Was the spell Dark?"

"What did Nymphadora tell you?"

Was Severus attempting to goad him by using her name? "She said it wasn't."

"You doubt her word?"

"No. I've simply read enough to know that while intent shapes magic, it does not change the original purpose of a spell."

"Yes, I imagine you had plenty of time for research during your years of unemployment." Severus's lips twisted in derision. "Is it not enough that Nymphadora used blood magic for  _love?_ If the spell was created to be Dark, would you wish to revoke it?"

Remus slowly nodded.

"You can't. The binding spell is irrevocable."

Severus hadn't answered his question. Remus asked, "Are you saying the spell  _is_  Dark?"

"I merely stated a fact. Interpret it however you choose." Severus paused, and then said, "A better question would have been 'Is Nymphadora capable of using Dark magic?'"

"Is she?" Remus regretted asking the moment the words slipped out of his mouth. "Don't tell me," he said quickly.

Severus voice rang with malice. "I didn't intend to."

 

Remus Apparated to the street outside the Hog's Head, feeling an utter fool. He harboured no ill will toward Severus and assumed—because of the man's agreement to teach Nymphadora to brew Wolfsbane Potion—that Severus had also let go of the past. Obviously, he was wrong. There was too much bitterness.

He bumped into a patron who was leaving as he entered. "Beg pardon," the wizard said, glancing at him curiously. It was Jerry Connelly.

Remus adjusted his hood and continued walking toward the bar. If the Auror recognised him, he didn't reveal it.

The barkeep accepted the coins Remus offered with a brusque, "Floo's open."

Remus took his time returning to Salford. He read half the Daily Prophet in London at the Leaky Cauldron and the other half in the Manchester Floo Station. The coffee he sipped at both locations was paid for with funds Nymphadora had slipped into his money pouch sometime during the night. It stung his pride that she knew he needed the Galleons yet warmed his heart to imagine her watching him sleep.

It was mid-morning when he returned home.

Will looked as though he'd been pacing the floor. His hair stuck up like Harry Potter's: disordered by agitated fingers. "Trevor and Haas came looking for you last night. They searched your room."

Remus went directly to the staircase. "I'm not surprised."

Will trailed him up the steps. "I tried to put things right, but I couldn't tell if they took anything."

"Thank you." Remus strode over to the desk and opened the drawer.

"Anything missing?" Will looked over his shoulder.

"A note."

"One you wouldn't want read?"

Will's tense expression was revealing. "When did Dix send the owl?" Remus asked.

"A few hours ago."

"When does he want to see me?"

Will didn't try to pretend he hadn't read the message. "As soon as you get back. He'll be in his office all day."

"I'd best be going, then."

"I'll go with you."

Remus was touched. He clapped the boy on the shoulder, even as he shook his head. "Dix won't be pleased with me. I wouldn't want him—or Cleave—to displace that anger onto you."

"They can do what they like. I have to talk to Dix," Will said firmly.

"Why?"

"It takes time to get a brewery going, right?" Before Remus could agree, Will was already speaking. "I could be learning the fundamentals of brewing, about brewhouse operations. There's a wizarding centre for brewing and distilling in Scotland. If Dix sponsors me, I wouldn't just know how to run the place. One day I could be Head Brewer. The Black Wolf Brewery could be werewolf owned and operated!"

The light in Will's eyes and the enthusiasm in his voice brought back memories of Sirius.

_In the Order, I can make a difference in this war! I can DO something with my life!_

Sirius's mother had expected him to live a dog's life, wretched and ignoble. From what Will had shared about his family, his father was just as discouraging. "That's an admirable goal," Remus said. "Where is the centre located? Edinburgh?"

"Inverness."

Remus flinched. Inverness was home to Fenrir Greyback's pack. There, werewolves lived in abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town because their leader refused to have his people "penned like sheep" in council flats. While Dix used the Ministry to provide basic support through the dole, Greyback insisted his people fend for themselves. Children were raised to steal—even kill—to meet the pack's needs. "You won't stay with the Inverness pack."

"No. I've heard Greyback considers anyone who deals outside the pack unworthy." Will's brow furrowed. "But Greyback deals with wizards."

"Ones who offer him prey," Remus said. "Wizards he plans to overthrow when werewolves gain in number."

"Overthrow You-Know-Who?" Will said disbelievingly. "That's mental." After a couple of minutes, his troubled gaze cleared. "Good thing Skoll didn't invite me to join Greyback's pack," he said almost cheerfully. "I'd rather stay here and have a future."

_Ah, the resilience of youth._  "A wise decision," Remus said. "Come along."

"Yeah?" Will grinned from ear to ear. "Yeah!"

At the pub, Cleave crossed his arms, blocking the doorway. "The pup wasn't invited."

Remus said, "He has a matter of importance to discuss with Dix."

"Dix is busy."

"I won't waste his time," Will said earnestly.

Cleave inhaled deeply—to smell a lie? He took a step back. "Wait at the bar, Pup."

Remus followed Cleave into the back office.

Dix was reading a file when they entered. "Every candidate for Head Brewer has a list of Brewing Industry Awards to his or her name," he said without looking up. "Best of Festival in Battersea, Best in Class, Falmouth, Leicester or Whitehaven, first in the Northern Beer Competition. How am I to choose between them?"

"Interview," Remus said. "Discover who needs the position the most and has the least prejudice against werewolves."

"Sound advice." Dix raised his eyes to pin Remus with a glacial stare. "Right now, I'm questioning you." He held up a square of parchment. "You went to see your mate after receiving this note?"

"Yes."

"Is it true? Did she find a way to remove the memory of the spell?"

"Yes."

Dix looked at his second in command. "He believes it," Cleave said.

"That doesn't mean she's not lying." Dix tossed the letter to the desk and picked up a quill. "Here's what's going to happen, Lupin. You're going to write your lady a note saying you're being sent on pack business and won't be able to communicate until your return on Halloween. Tell her you'll miss her and look forward to seeing her then."

"Am I being sent on pack business?" Remus asked.

"You will accompany Cleave to buy equipment and privately interview each of the top applicants. During that time, if you do not attempt to owl or visit your mate, and if on Halloween she answers questions to my satisfaction, I may be lenient.”

_How kind of you._ Remus kept his voice calm. "Why not question her now?"

"Veritaserum is a controlled substance. Even on the black market, it's hard to come by. It may take you until the pack meeting to acquire a vial."

"You expect me—"

"Are you refusing?" Dix's steely gaze warned that the consequences would be dire.

"No," Remus said. "I want to prove my loyalty." He really meant, "I want to keep Nymphadora safe and complete my mission."

"He speaks the truth," Cleave said in his deep, rumbling voice.

Dix's expression thawed slightly. "That's good to hear."

 

 

Tonks couldn't believe what she was reading. The letter had come by owl post: to keep it untraceable? Was it written at wand point?

"Bad news from home?" Jerry asked.

"No—yes—I can't think in this bloody place." She rose from the table. "Don't get up. Finish your dinner. I'm going to take a walk."

Savage made the sound of a cracking whip when she passed his table. "Does Connelly get to piss without your permission, or do you tell him when to do that too?"

Tonks pretended not to hear him. It would only encourage the arsehole to keep running his mouth.

She broke into a jog the moment her feet touched the pavement outside the Hog's Head. Apparation was faster, but she needed to get her thoughts and emotions under control before she contacted Remus. He hadn't volunteered for this trip. He was under orders. She had to be supportive, not needy.

In the attic, she pulled out her communication mirror. "Hullo," she said, when Remus's face appeared. "Are you off to buy kegs or something?"

"Equipment, yes, and to interview brewers."

Tonks felt her stomach drop. "Dix was really fussed, wasn't he?"

"He kept his composure. I'm fortunate he didn't demand I vow not to communicate with you in any way," Remus said with a trace of bitterness. "I'll still be able to contact you from time to time."

"Not every night?"  _Stars and stones,_ she thought in disgust.  _Could I sound more like a kid who can't sleep without her stuffed dragon?_

"Cleave is accompanying me. I need to lull his suspicions, not raise them."

"Of course." She walked over to her trunk and dug out a parchment pad and a quill. "Do you have an itinerary yet?"

"Yes. Dix made arrangements."

Tonks wrote down the dates of interviews along with the names of the brewers and the towns they lived in. When she asked him to spell a wizard's last name, Remus said with a hint of a smile, "Planning your enquiry if I go missing?"

"I just like knowing," she said. "That way, on nights you can't answer, when the mirror warms your pocket you'll know I'm sending my love to you, wherever you are."

"I don't need a mirror to remind me," Remus said. "Although it's a comfort I'm thankful for."

"I'm grateful you're not mad at me." Tonks fought to keep her voice from wavering. "I don't remember getting rid of the memory Dix wanted, but I did it, and I'm sorry that you're the one who has to pay."

"I'm not. I'll do anything to keep you safe."

Oh, gods, she was going to start crying if she didn't act fast! Tonks said throatily, "You're sexy when you act protective, professor."

She was rewarded with a faint, wolfish grin. "You're sexy when you act provocative."

Tonks blew him a kiss. "Wait until I unveil my Little Red Riding Hood outfit."

"You already have a costume?"

"No," she said with a wink, "but when you see it, you'll want to make up for lost time."

"I already do."

Tonks kept the rest of the conversation cheery as possible. She didn't want Remus to remember her blotchy-faced with tears. It wasn't until his image vanished from the mirror that she allowed herself to cry.

 

Her move into the Hog's Head wasn't as awful as she had feared. The room was next to Jerry's. The bare wooden floor was spell-swept, the narrow bed made with faded, dusky-pink linens. "That's a pretty colour," she said, feeling guilty for thinking of her landlord meanly.

"Those belonged to my sister," he said gruffly. His wiry eyebrows drew together. "Don't be defiling her memory. Take your antics someplace else."

"And I promise to always take off my shoes and never eat on the bed," Tonks said dryly.

For a second, the crusty old goat appeared on the verge of a smile. "See that you don't."

Alone in her new home away from home, Tonks sat on the bed. Amazingly, it didn't creak. She slipped off her shoes and stretched out on the mattress. It was comfortable. Her eyes drifted shut. Maybe she could dream the next few weeks away. When sleep didn’t come, she decided to go bug Snape. He deserved it, for forcing her to keep proving to Kreacher that she could handle a knife. She wanted to brew Wolfsbane Potion, not be an unpaid kitchen worker!

 

"It is not the proper time," Snape said, when confronted in his office.

"When will the  _proper time_  be?" she asked. "Give me a date and I'll mark it on my calendar."

"There is no date, only a state of mind—which you do not currently possess."

"Yes, I do!" she cried. "I want to learn. Remus is gone so I have plenty of time."

"Potions making is an exact science," he said, as though she hadn't spoken. "At present, you lack the ability to focus."

She jumped to her feet. "So do half the girls at this school! They brew potions!"

"Not Wolfsbane."

Tonks shook with anger. "You're such a git!"

Snape rose to face her, black eyes glittering. "You are emotionally unstable," he said coldly. "I suggest you establish an outlet for your  _frustrations_ and return when your faculties are under control."

_Oh yeah?_ She grabbed the nearest floating jar.  _How's this for an outlet?_ She viciously slammed the glass down. Dead cockroaches spilled onto the desk.

Tonks ran out of the office.

 

When they patrolled the village that night, Jerry said, "You're awfully quiet."

"I don't feel like talking," she said, silently adding,  _to anyone except Remus._

Unfortunately, Remus couldn't respond when she tried to contact him via the mirror. After moping around her room, she decided to have a beer down in the pub. Tonks found Jerry playing darts with a couple of warlocks who would've fleeced him if he hadn't been an Auror. She shook her head when he asked her to join them, choosing to sit at a table and watch.

"Did you drink all those?" Jerry asked when his last match was over.

Tonks blinked at the number of bottles on the table. "He gave me a volume discount."

"Can you make it upstairs?"

"When the room stops spinning."

"Let me help you." He pulled her out of her seat.

Tonks stumbled against him. "Maybe you should use a feather-light spell and carry me up. Worked for Snape." Her bottom lip turned down.  _Mean old malevolent bat._

"Snape?"

Jerry's arm around her waist gave the appearance that he was helping her walk, even though her feet didn't quite touch the floor. Tonks said, "Look at me, I'm walkin' on air!"

By the time they reached the second floor, her giggly mood turned melancholy.

"Tonks, what's wrong?" Jerry steered her toward her room.

She was tired of keeping everything bottled up. "When you love someone, you want to be with them, right?"

"Uh—right."

It took two tries to unlock her door. "No one should make you feel bad about it, like it's something dirty." Her face began to crumple. "Should they?"

"No."

Jerry's expression was so sincere; Tonks' frame of mind took an upward swing. "That's why we're mates, mate," she said, waving a hand back and forth between them. "We're s—sim—simpatico!" She forgot the door was open and tried to lean against it. Tonks fell backwards. "Whoops! I'm floating again!"

"Oh! Sorry! I'll counter the spell."

"Let me down gently!" she said, giggling as she drifted toward the bed.

The second her head touched the pillow, Tonks mumbled, "Night, Jerry," and fell immediately asleep.

In the morning, the alarm drilled into her skull like vengeful dwarves with pickaxes. She rolled off the bed, moaning while crawling over to the trunk to search for potions kept on hand for Remus. After downing Nauseous No More and Hair of the Dog, Tonks chewed a handful of brushing/flossing mints. A line from one of her Gran's favourite horror films came to mind. "She's alive," she croaked. "She's  _alive!"_

There was a soft knock. Jerry’s hushed tone came through the door. "I brought you coffee."

She could smell it, like the living dead smelled brains—or whatever they hunted humans for in those films. It was hard to keep track of plot when she watched through the gaps in her fingers. She dragged herself to the door.

"How do you feel?" Jerry asked, looking less bright-eyed than usual.

"Half a step above a resurrected corpse. Give me the coffee and I might not decompose."

Jerry's nose wrinkled when he handed her the mug. "The shower's available."

Tonks drained every drop of coffee. "Are you telling me Eau de Brewery isn't my scent?" She snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I look like a zombie and I smell like one too. Tell me you cleaned the shower."

"I cleaned the shower."

She thrust the mug into his hands. "Don't tell Julia, but you're edging her out of best mate status. Ta, thanks. Now guard the bathroom while I get some clothes."

 

Tonks didn't drown her sorrows again, but as the weeks passed with only brief conversations with Remus to brighten her days, her attitude became decidedly black. She was still angry with Snape for being a judgmental arse, so she sent an owl to confirm that the potion he was brewing would be ready by Halloween.

Shortly before the full moon, Remus broke away from Cleave to contact her. Tonks's joy dimmed when she learned he planned to take a Sleeping Potion to keep the wolf from dreaming.

"We're using a communal safe house with only external soundproofing," he said. "The lack of privacy makes it a necessity."

"Does it?" She didn't argue, but on the day of the full moon, Tonks took a long walk that ended at the cave of Annis Black.

The hag sat in the sunlight reading a book. A pink tam o'shanter perched on her straggly black locks. "Love the hat," Tonks said. "Bubblegum pink's my favourite colour."

"One of the Witch Guide leaders gave it to me for helping the girls earn their good neighbour badge." She glanced up at the darkening sky. "There's time for tea before you need to make your way back if you'd care to join me."

"Yes, thank you." Tonks helped her shake out the blanket and fold it.

Inside the cave, a table was set for two, with plates of dainty sandwiches and teacakes set out on a lace tablecloth. A bowl of colourful stones acted as centrepiece. "How did you know I was coming?" Tonks asked.

"I had a dream last night." Annis removed the enchanted cosy from the teapot.

Tonks smiled her thanks as she wrapped her hands around a cup. The warmth seeped into her chilled skin. "You dreamt I came to visit?"

"In my dream, a wolf padded into the cave. She was alone. When I looked into her eyes, I woke up." Annis smiled kindly. "You have a question to ask."

Tonks felt a chill run down her spine like an icy fingertip. It was one thing to take a magic rock hoping she would dream of Remus. This required trust. "He's going to use a potion for dreamless sleep," she whispered. "How can I be with my love if he doesn't dream?"

"Your lover is a werewolf and you are not." Annis spoke matter-of-factly.

"Yes."

Annis reached into the bowl. "The jade I gave you aids in dreaming, but this—" She held out a piece of turquoise. "—is the Sky Stone. It promotes spiritual attunement and astral travel."

Trelawney hadn't covered out-of-body stuff in Divination. Probably afraid her students would become a bunch of astral Peeping Toms. "I'd travel to where he is?"

"Your spirit could travel anywhere in the universe."

 

Later that night, while snow fell outside, Tonks lay on her bed, focusing on physical relaxation to enable an internal shift in consciousness. Unlike her prior experiences, she was aware when she entered a dream state.

Tonks visualised a silvery rope hanging down from the ceiling. Following Annis's instructions, she reached out with astral fingers to take hold and climb the rope, moving upward until she left her body behind. Unhampered by physical limits, she floated to the window and then through the panes.

She flew through the air, awed at how real everything felt. Her senses were heightened, every snowflake a crystallised work of art. Her spirit relished the cold, thrilled to the sound of the wind rushing through trees. When she glided into more civilised places, the lights twinkling below dazzled her eyes, although they could not compare to the luminous majesty of the heavens.

The moon and the stars beckoned her to explore, but Tonks felt an even greater pull to Leicester, England, and a machinery warehouse with a safe room for werewolves.

In the far corner of the warehouse, one wolf slept while the rest lounged around or groomed each other. Tonks hovered beside his body, watching his chest rise and fall. "Remus," she said, "Is your spirit awake?"

A shimmering rope materialised. Tonks visualised an astral wolf gripping the end with his teeth, waiting for her to tug the rope upward and free him from the cage of his physical body. She pulled with all her strength.

They ran with the moon.

Tonks awoke with a jolt when the alarm went off. She sat up, heart pounding in her chest, as though she had really been running. She laughed a little in relief. "Good to see Annis was right that you can't get trapped on the astral plane, and consciousness always returns to the body."

Amazed at how well rested she felt, Tonks dressed and brought Jerry coffee. "Want to go tobogganing after patrol?" she asked when he opened the door. "Hamish carries toboggans at his shop. He'd give us a discount."

"I don't know," Jerry said. "I'm not feeling—what are you doing?"

Tonks placed the back of her hand to his forehead. "You don't have a fever." She reached around to the nape of his neck. "Your muscles aren't stiff. Do you have a headache?"

"No."

"Then all you need is fresh air and exercise. Go get dressed."

His usually good-natured features tightened. "You can't order me around."

She heaved a sigh. "I should've hexed Savage. I'm not ordering you," she said. "I'm asking you—as a friend—to save me from boredom. If you don't, I'll do something rash."

"What?"

"I'll build an anatomically correct snowman right outside your window!"

"Female?" Jerry asked, looking interested.

Tonks narrowed her eyes to slits. "Hermaphrodite."

Jerry grinned. "All right, I'll go get dressed."

She yelled after him, "We could always build it outside Dawlish's window!"

They didn't construct a naughty snowperson, but they did play in the snow, joining the children and young-at-heart already gathered at the highest hill near the village.

 

When Tonks finally had a chance to talk to Remus, she was hesitant to ask if he remembered the events on the full moon. If he couldn't, would he be upset? What if it she had only imagined astral travel because she'd wanted to be with him so much?

He didn't bring the subject up, so she didn't either. They talked of how they'd filled the hours apart. Tonks couldn't help feeling a little hurt that Remus didn't seem to be looking forward to seeing her on Halloween. She listened to his fears and cautions, wishing she could reassure him with a kiss instead of nods that meant she heard, not that she agreed to everything he said.

Their views about her costume were radically different. He wanted her to wear something that wouldn't attract "undue attention." She promised to consider it, but there was no way she was dressing down for the party. The name wasn't Little  _Brown_ Riding Hood! Tonks had found the prettiest red embroidered peasant top in the village that would look gorgeous with a black miniskirt and her black lace-up, knee high boots. The heels on the boots were wickedly sexy. She and Julia had joked that they could double as weapons, but the stability charms made them comfortable as trainers and perfect for dancing.

On the afternoon of the thirty-first, Tonks tracked down Fiona to ask, "Who does your hair? I can't morph mine, but spells should last through a party."

Fiona grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the office in the back of her husband's shop.

"Did someone cast an _Incendio_?" Hamish asked as they rushed by.

"No fire! She's finally getting her hair done!" Fiona cried.

Tonks dug her heels in when her friend tried to lead her to a cottage that looked as though it might be made of gingerbread. "I heard what happened to Hansel and Gretel," she said. "I'm not going in there. I want to look fit, not fresh from the oven!"

Fiona laughed. "Those Muggle writers were the worst exaggerators. Nan McPhee never hurt a fly. It was her ancestor." She held on when Tonks tried to tug out of her grip. "She made the little vandals work off their debt at her bakery!"

"Oh." Tonks felt sheepish. "I have a Muggle Gran," she said. "She's awfully good at making stories seem real."

"I'm sure." Fiona smiled at the old woman who came out of the house to clear snow of her walkway. "Hullo, Mrs. McPhee! I have someone in desperate need of your talents!"

The woman lowered her wand. "So I see." In a blink of an eye, the witch Apparated to stand in front of Tonks. "No previous spell-work to counter," she said thoughtfully. "What are you looking for, Miss?"

"Just Tonks." She shrugged. "Little Red Riding Hood, for a Halloween party tonight—nothing permanent."

"Black. Long. Kept off the face with a red velvet band. Upswept, yet cascading down the back. Yes, I have the vision. Come." Mrs. McPhee turned and marched toward the gate.

"Go," Fiona said, making shooing motions with her fingers.

"Come with me," Tonks said.

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Fine. I smell chocolate ginger biscuits."

Mrs. McPhee sent Tonks away two hours later with a reminder to share her biscuits with "that dear boy Jerreth."

She knocked on his door and gave him the entire tin. "The chocolate ginger comes highly recommended."

"You...changed your hair."

"It's only temporary."

"I—I like it," Jerry said. "Does this mean you'll be at the village bonfire tonight?"

"No, I'm going out. Happy Halloween."

 

Tonks got ready, using smoky, dark makeup to emphasise her eyes. She could almost hear Julia say, "Witch Weekly says to highlight your eyes or your mouth—not both!" when she painted her lips red.

"I'm not going for subtle, I'm going for sexy," she told her reflection, making sure to pull up her hood before going downstairs. "Watch it," she growled at a wizard who brushed too close. Tonks had the new MegaMaggot Orpheus Orb in her pocket, and if anyone broke her present for Will, they'd be hexed.

At the bar, her grizzled landlord served a veiled witch before barking at Tonks, "Nothing came for you in the post."

So, she asked a few times a day, every day. He couldn't be polite? "Happy Halloween to you too," she said.

There was no Apparating into Hogwarts, so Tonks had to walk from the gates. She was fuming by the time she made her way to the Great Hall. A Disillusionment Charm kept her presence hidden from students, but the look on Snape's face told her he was aware of the blur approaching the head table. He jerked his head toward the staff entrance.

Snape swooped into the corridor. "Have you not a modicum of discretion?"

She became visible. "Let me think. No." Tonks smiled thinly. "Chalk it up to instability. I'm here for the potions."

He retrieved the vials from within his robes.

She turned away to conceal one in her garter.

Snape said, "I must caution you about the taste."

It was too late. She had already pulled the stopper from the second vial and poured the liquid into her mouth. Tonks wanted to spit the vile glop out, yet forced herself to swallow it. "Oh gods."

"Any sweetener would negate the effectiveness."

She patted her pockets to find a brushing/flossing mint. "Did you put a cockroach in there to pay me back?"

Snape looked down his nose. "I am not so puerile."

"Did I hear Cockroach Clusters mentioned?" Dumbledore had entered the corridor along with McGonagall. "I find them tasty, myself."

McGonagall gazed at Tonks enquiringly. "Are you here on official business?"

"No." Snape's carefully blank look prodded her to add, "I wanted to show Severus my Halloween costume."

"A costume? How delightful." Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with mischief. "I'd enjoy seeing it myself."

"Enjoy seeing what?" Sprout's voice boomed from the archway to the Great Hall. Flitwick was with her.

"Auror Tonks is wearing a Halloween costume," McGonagall replied. "Apparently, she is eager to obtain an opinion of it."

"That was a joke," Tonks said weakly.

Sprout bustled forward. "Don't be shy. Show us the costume!"

If Snape hadn't smirked, Tonks would have kept her cloak closed. Professor Snarky's amusement at her expense brought out her Black streak.

Following a moment of dead silence, Sprout asked, "What are you supposed to be?"

Tonks could feel her cheeks turning pink. "An adult Little Red Riding Hood."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose so high they almost touched the brim of her hat. "Well, it certainly is adult."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "A unique and attractive ensemble," he said. "Don't you agree, Severus?"

Snape's tight-lipped, "Indeed," spurred Tonks to action.

"Ta, thanks, must run. Happy Halloween!" She turned and bolted.

Flitwick's piping voice carried down the corridor. "I'd give her top marks for the charms on those boots!"

 

After her embarrassment at the castle, being greeted by wolf-whistles in back alley of a Salford pub didn't faze Tonks in the slightest. She shouldered her way through the men waiting to be allowed in Dix's club, telling the burly werewolf who answered her knock, "I'm Nym."

"Cleave." He barely gave her enough room to edge past him. "Let me take your cloak."

She glanced around the room. The shepherdess serving ale behind the bar was the only other person in the room wearing a costume. Everyone else wore gear that would fit in at a club—exactly as Remus predicted. "Wait," Tonks said, taking the black orb out of her pocket before giving up her cloak.

"Nym! Is that you? You're bloody gorgeous!"

Tonks was glad to turn her back on the man who looked her over like a piece of meat. "Wotcher, Lillie." She scanned the room. "Where's Remus?"

"Playing darts in the back with Kemp. What's in your hand? Is that the latest MegaMaggot orb? It hasn't been released yet. How'd you get it?" Lillie was bouncing in excitement.

Tonks smiled. "I have my ways." It paid to be on friendly terms with the band. She handed Lillie the orb. "It's for Will. Why don't you give it to him for me?" Her eyes had found Remus, who looked scrummy in his charcoal-grey shirt and black trousers.

He must have seen her out of the corner of his eye. Remus did a cute double take and turned. He watched her intently. The heat in his gaze increased the swing in her hips and made all the trouble she'd gone to, been in—and might get into—worth it.

She longed to throw herself into Remus's arms and snog him like there was no tomorrow. She wanted to press tiny kisses to every part of his face. She'd missed him so much; her feelings were so intense. She couldn't smile, much less speak.

When her lover drew her into his arms, Tonks rested her head on his shoulder and found one word to express everything she felt in her heart. "Remus."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the early part of the chapter, if anyone thought of Hook saying, "Alas, I have no happy thoughts" I heart you for that! There's a Muggle International Centre for Brewing and Distilling in Edinburgh, and I won't share how many beer festivals there are! The cockroaches that spilled onto Snape's desk were a what goes around comes around for Snape losing his temper and throwing a jar of them at Harry's head. The turquoise/astral travel stuff I looked up so I could use what was convenient. As for the "anatomically correct snowman", it’s an homage to the classic comic strip Calvin and Hobbes. "Nan" McPhee is a play on Nanny McPhee, although Mrs. McPhee is more like Edna from The Incredibles. :D


	19. Waiting to Dance

 

 

Remus gathered Nymphadora into his arms, closing his eyes to draw in her scent and savour her warmth. This was what he had missed while they were apart. She burrowed closer, shifting in a way that centred his thoughts on something else he'd longed for.

He prudently loosened his hold. "If this is your demure costume," he said, only half-joking, "I'd love to see your daring one."

Her smile was playfully wicked. "It's underneath."

His hands tightened on her hips.

Will and Lillie chose that moment to join them.

"Dix is going to spin the orb!" Will grinned at them in boyish excitement. "You two have to dance with us!"

"I don't think—" Remus began.

"You dance with us, then, Nym," Lillie said. "Show him what he's missing!"

"OK," Nymphadora replied, allowing the girl to pull her toward the small dance floor.

A hypnotic whisper filled the pub.

_There's a werewolf at the door._

Remus watched his lover's mouth shape the words.

_There's a werewolf at the door._

_There's a werewolf at the door._

_There's a werewolf at the_ . . ..

After the sound of a drumstick tapping a cymbal twice, the singer's voice rose to scream, " _DOORRR!"_

The song's whisper transitioned into an angry growl.

_Nothing wrong with being STRONG_

Will and Lillie's hands were beating the air.

_Nothing wrong with being FREE_

Nymphadora danced with sexy, controlled movements.

_Nothing wrong with being RAW_

Her eyes never left his while she sang.

_Nothing wrong with being—one!_

_Bonds are going to break._

_Two!_

_Bonds are going to break._

The way she moved her hips made Remus wish he were the only man watching.

_Three!_

_Bonds are going to break..._

His inner tension was mounting along with the song, peaking when the singer screamed.

_NOWWW!_

A wave of metal pounded through the room. The three dancing weren't the only ones snapping their necks back and forth. Pack members around the room were getting into the music, with two notable exceptions. Delia had put her hands to her ears to block what she likely considered "noise." Next to the bar, Cleave seemed mesmerised by Nymphadora's long hair swinging back and forth.

Remus walked onto the dance floor.

"She rocks-out hard!" Lillie yelled.

Nymphadora took his outstretched hand.

Will was bouncing to the rhythm, adding to the image of an overgrown pup. "He wants her to rock his world in private!"

Remus couldn't deny that he wanted to be alone with his partner, although his motivation wasn't  _primarily_ sexual.

The pack viewed their exit differently. Wolf-whistles and lewd comments trailed them into Dix's office. Remus shut the door and faced his lover.

She smiled. "I do want to rock your world, but not in here."

He followed her into the private toilet. "This isn't what—"

Nymphadora placed a red-polished fingertip against his mouth. "I know." She locked the door and kissed him soundly before leaning back against the wall.

Remus's pulse skyrocketed when she pulled up her skirt. "Nym—"

"Shhh…." She removed a tiny vial and a brushing/flossing mint from her garter. "Tastes foul," she said, barely above a whisper.

His eyes cut to the door. "Thank you," he murmured, drinking the potion. Remus used a non-verbal spell to get rid of the vial.

Nymphadora twined her arms around his neck. "I had an ulterior motive for giving you the mint."

Remus wondered if his smile appeared as wolfish as it felt. "Was it for the same reason you didn't pull down your skirt?" He pressed closer.

She fluttered her eyelashes. "Why, yes, professor," Nymphadora breathed into his ear, "Until somebody knocks on the door, I'm going to enjoy establishing our cover." She licked his earlobe before taking it gently between her teeth. "Enjoy you covering me."

He turned his head to capture her teasing lips. Her fingers speared through his hair, their heated kisses making Remus's blood rush.

Needs he'd tried to bury rose violently to the surface. The pain was as pleasurable as his lover's nails raking down his back. Driven to increase the ache, Remus said, "I want to see what's underneath." He pushed the sleeves of Nymphadora's blouse off her shoulders.

"It's crushed velvet," she said huskily.

He brushed silken skin with his fingertips before rubbing the fabric of her low-cut bra. "Are your panties red, too?"

"Find out for yourself." She nuzzled his throat, lightly sucking.

He rocked against her. "This can't go anywhere."

"Sure it can. Here or the basin unit—take your pick."

Remus groaned. The situation was getting out of hand. "Not here," he said reluctantly. "Dix could come into the office at any time."

"Dix is here." Cleave's voice revealed the lack of privacy ward. "Don't keep him waiting."

Nymphadora flashed a two-fingered salute at the door. "Sorry!" she called. "We'll be right out!"

Remus pulled up the sleeves of her blouse while she tugged her skirt down and smoothed out the leather before finger combing his hair into place. He turned the handle, reciting Arithmancy equations to gain composure.

Nymphadora strolled past Cleave to address the man sitting behind the desk. "Hullo, nice to finally meet you."

Dix shook her hand. "I'd say it was a pleasure, but you've displeased me greatly."

"I'd apologise," Nymphadora said, "but I'm not sorry I dumped the memory."

"Not  _yet,"_ Cleave growled.

Dix waved them to seats in front of the desk. "I find it hard to believe that you made the decision unilaterally, Miss…."

"Just Nym, and when it comes to Remus, I do what's best for him whether anyone likes it or not." Her gaze flickered sideways.

_Even me?_ Remus smiled faintly.

Her lips tilted up at the corners.

Dix said, "Cleave, pour our guests a drink."

_Spiked with Veritaserum_.

Nymphadora winked so quickly he almost missed it. She turned her eyes to Dix. "You brew real ale, don't you? I'd like to try it."

"Later."

Cleave was pouring Firewhisky into a pair of tumblers.

"Only a splash for me, please." Nymphadora made a face. "Never fancied the taste, even when I got to the bottom of the glass. Always had the urge to check my teeth for bits of peat."

Dix said, "Ogden's Best is very smooth."

Nymphadora sniffed the glass Cleave handed her. "It doesn't smell like fermented bog water. That's promising." She downed the Firewhisky and began to cough. "Oh, yeah, s—smooth!"

Remus sipped his drink, idly wondering if Veritaserum had an odour or flavour. If so, Firewhisky effectively camouflaged it.

Cleave remained standing beside Nymphadora's chair. "You've smelled fermented bog water?"

"Fell into a bog," she said. "I was trying to collect a  _Boletophagus Reticulatus._ Do you like beetles?"

"No."

Nymphadora shrugged. "Not surprising. They don't have the appeal of something warm and furry." She cut her eyes toward Remus.

His lips twitched. She looked like a sex kitten and acted kittenish too, playfully batting at every dangled string of conversation. Cleave didn't appear to know what to make of her.

Dix said, "Drink up, Brother John."

"That reminds me of a children's song," Nymphadora said brightly. " _Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?"_

Remus drained his Firewhisky. "I believe it's time to answer questions, love."

She bit her lip as if chastened. "OK."

"You implied that thwarting my use of blood magic was in your mate's best interest,  _Nym,_ " Dix said coolly. "Explain."

She scooted forward to sit at the edge of her seat. "You remaining healthy and in charge is what's in his best interest." Nymphadora braced a hand on the desk. "You're the one with the plans and the money to make things better. What happens if you die? If Brenda dies? The Salford pack becomes a copy of Inverness, that's bloody what."

"What's wrong with the Inverness pack?" Dix made a steeple of his fingers. "Who are you to criticise?"

"I'm someone who loves her mate, who thinks werewolves deserve to do more than live hand to mouth, stealing and killing for food and promises that aren't worth the parchment they're written on."

"Greyback's promises aren't written on parchment," Cleave said in his deep rumble.

"I didn't think they were." She glanced guiltily at Remus. "Am I being too honest?"

He shook his head. "This above all, to thy own self be true."

"And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man," said Dix.

"Wow. You men know your Shakespeare." Nymphadora shifted in her chair to look up at Cleave. "Anything you want to recite?"

Her tone was facetious.

Cleave said, “I dream of black skies littered with starlight, of quiet sounds. Rustlings. Murmurs of the timid. The sleeping. The hiding. That is when I walk as a king through this realm.”

Remus blinked in surprise.

Nymphadora smiled. "Gorgeous imagery. Did you write it?"

"Another werewolf did—Smith Cassidy."

"I know a werewolf poem, too," she said. "Even a man who is pure in heart, and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, and the autumn moon is bright."

Cleave arched a brow. "Did you write it?"

"I heard a werewolf say it—Lon Chaney Jr. Ever heard of him?"

"No."

Remus had. The "werewolf" was an actor who, along with his father, featured in the classic Muggle song "Werewolves of London." He coughed to disguise an inadvertent chuckle.

"Now that everyone has demonstrated his or her erudition . . .." Dix waited for all eyes to focus on him before asking dryly, "Where were we?"

Nymphadora's upraised hand reminded Remus of Hermione Granger. Like his former pupil, she spoke without waiting to be called on. "I was explaining why I'm not a fan of Greyback."

Dix tilted his head, regarding her speculatively. "You say you prefer my leadership, but wouldn't you rather your mate be Alpha?"

She burst out laughing. "Do I look like Lady Macbeth to you? Keep your crown, Duncan. Remus is my Alpha, and all I want is his happiness."

"And you, Wolfe brother?"

Remus faced Dix squarely. "She is my happiness, and my only ambition is to help this pack succeed."  _Succeed in business and succeed in becoming independent, not pawns of Dark wizards._  "I am no admirer of Fenrir Greyback."

Dix chuckled. "No, I suppose not. Yet you admire me?"

_Aside from your stand on pack discipline._ "Yes." If Remus had met someone like Dix after the first war—when the Order disbanded and he had no family or friends—his life might have taken a much different road. Remus's gaze flickered over Nymphadora. He was thankful to have travelled the path that led to her.

Dix's voice sharpened. "Will you admire me as I continue to weaken with every moonrise? When I eventually lose my strength and status as Alpha?"

"You don't need blood magic to keep your strength," Remus said.

"That's for me to decide," Dix said. He asked Nymphadora, "Where did you find the spell?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Who found it for you?"

"I don't know."

"Who erased your memory?"

Nymphadora shook her head. "It wasn't erased. It was removed. I don't know who I got to do it, or how it was done."

Dix's jaw tightened. "What did she tell you about the blood magic?" he asked Remus.

"She performed the spell during the full moon. I never asked for details. What I do know," Remus said strongly, "is that Wolfsbane Potion allows you to keep your faculties during the change—greatly lessening the strain on your body."

"Greyback doesn't allow the use of Wolfsbane Potion," Dix said. "If I purchase it, I take the chance that he finds out." His smile was mirthless. "His nature is less forgiving than mine."

"I'll make the purchase for you." Remus heard Nymphadora's intake of breath and was relieved when she didn't protest.

Cleave said, "And if Greyback finds out?"

"I'll take every precaution to ensure that doesn't happen," Remus said, "but if he does, I'll take the consequences." His lips twisted. "I've survived them before."

"Will you give a Wizard's Handshake on it?" Dix asked.

The Wizard's Handshake transformed a promise into a magical bond. The penalty for breaking faith was pain that rivalled a Cruciatus Curse. Only an Unbreakable Vow carried a harsher sentence.

Remus didn't hesitate.

 

It was all Tonks could do to stop herself from grabbing his hand.

Remus might admire Dix, but she thought he needed to stand up to Greyback instead of asking another man to take his punishment.

After the handshake, Tonks noticed that Remus was surreptitiously wriggling the fingers of his right hand. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"It's only parasthesia," he said.

She gave him a blank look.

Remus smiled a little. "It's the sensation of pins and needles. The spell put pressure on the nerves, making it feel as though my fingers had fallen asleep."

She took his hand in hers, gently massaging. "As long as it's not parasites. I'd hate to spend our first night together in ages at St. Mungo's."

"I'm fine," he said.

"Yes, you are," she purred.

"And to think Cleave suspected that you two were conspiring in the loo instead of having a snog," Dix said, with an amused glance toward his second in command.

Cleave barked at her, "What's your full name?"

She gave him the truth—as she saw it. "Nym is all you need to know."

"Who are your parents?"

"A witch and a wizard."

"Their names?"

"Mum and Dad."

Cleave turned to Remus, "What's her occupation?"

"Enquiry agent."

"Where does she live?"

"Anywhere she has to."

"Do you trust her?"

"With my life."

Cleave's huff sounded frustrated. "If you two are so in love, why haven't you married?"

Remus answered instantly. "I'm too old, too poor, and too dangerous."

"Bollocks," she snapped. "You can say it a million times, but it won't be true."

"It is true." Cleave's voice rang with certainty. "He isn't lying."

Tonks jumped to her feet. "That's because he's been brainwashed by a society ruled by fear and prejudice. The anti-werewolf articles in the  _Prophet_  are as bullshit as anything churned out by the  _Quibbler._ " She jabbed her finger at Cleave. "Do you let the Ministry—the papers—define who you are?"

"Hell, no."

"Good for you, mate." She looked at Dix. "Do you have any more questions? I'd like to grab a drink at the bar. I need one."

He rose and held out his hand. "What we discussed in this room and what goes on in this pack is never to be spoken of to outsiders. Shake on it."

"A Witch's Handshake? Fine." She clasped his fingers and yelped when she lost sensation in her hand. "Ouch!" she cried, as she regained feeling. "Pins and needles, my arse! It's like being stabbed with daggers!"

"You've been stabbed by daggers?" Cleave asked incredulously.

"Only one, actually. The "disabled" wizard I caught re-enacting the Battle of Hastings instead of lying in bed wasn't thrilled to be photographed. I knew his knife was charmed to bend against skin," she said, "but it still scared the shit out of me when he yelled, "Die, Norman scum!"

"I'm sure," Dix said smoothly. "Go have a drink. Your mate will join you in a few moments."

"All right." She could feel Remus's stare, but avoided his eyes to keep from screaming or crying. How could he be so smart and yet so stupid?

"What'll it be, luv?" the shepherdess at the bar said over the music. Her smile was sunny. "I'm Brenda, by the way, if your mate hasn't told you about me."

"He did. Nice to meet you, Brenda. I'm Nym, and I'd like a pint of ale, please."

"We've got all kinds, light, dark, fruity, hoppy, mild or crisp."

"Light."

"Light it is."

"I'll take mine strong and dark," said a voice behind her.

The older werewolf beside Tonks almost toppled off his stool in his eagerness to give it up. "Have my seat, Cleave."

Brenda placed their glasses on the bar.

Tonks admired the deep gold colour and took a drink. "Mmm," she said. "There's the taste of fresh oranges with a leafy bite at the end—how's your mild ale?"

"D'you fancy chocolate and toffee?"

"Who doesn't?"

Cleave leaned over and did his sniffing thing. Did he think she was lying? He said, "Your skin smells of oranges and something sweet and flowery—intoxicating."

"Like beer," she said lightly. "My soap is orange blossom and ylang ylang. It's Remus's favourite." She sipped her beer, pretending Cleave wasn't trying to get on with her.

Cleave didn't take the hint that she wasn't interested. "I know why he likes it," he said. "What I don't know is why you fancy an old wolf."

"He's in his prime." She hopped off the barstool, intending to go wait for Remus by the office door.

His hand shot out to capture her wrist. "Dance with me."

"I already have a partner," she said, tugging against his grip. "Let me go."

He pulled her closer. "And if I don't?"

She cast a non-verbal spell, watching her fingernails become cat claws, extending forward and down. Tonks dug them into Cleave's forearm. "You'll have nasty scratches."

He abruptly released his hold.

Tonks spun on her heel and came face-to-face with her lover. Dix was behind him. "Wotcher, Remus," she said. "I was just—erm—having a chat with Cleave."

"I saw."

The last thing she wanted was conflict. "Let's dance," she said, taking his hand.

Remus followed her to the far corner of the dance floor. "I can't dance to this music," he said.

She moved in close, pressing her hands against his chest. "The only rhythm I need is the beating of your heart."

He looked deeply into her eyes. "Even if I'm old, poor, and dangerous?"

Tonks slid her hands up to encircle his neck. "I don't care about age or money." She used the  _Unguis_  spell and raked the tip of a claw across his nape. "And I'm much more dangerous than you'll ever be."

His arms went around her waist. "Maybe you are."

"Would you have me any other way?" She smiled, but inside, uncertainty gnawed at her confidence. Too many times in her life, people she cared about had wanted her to change.

"No."

She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. They swayed together, sliding their feet in a slow, intimate dance, moving to the beat of their hearts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to a Muggle American poet, Smith Cassidy, for allowing me to use a quote and make him/her a werewolf. Dead poets I use and credit without compunction: living ones I like to ask permission. :)
> 
> In this chapter, the MegaMaggot song is one that, years later, will become a Muggle hit (with a few changes, because Muggles believe werewolves are fictional and most sites don't allow writers to use direct lyrics.) ;) If readers don't listen to stations that play songs like Drowning Pool's Bodies, the tune could be familiar from video games, films, or sports. If someone hasn't heard "Let the bodies hit the floor, Let the bodies hit the floor" and is curious after reading the chapter, there's always youtube, although personally, I much prefer The Matrix Let the bodies hit the Floor fan video to the band's.
> 
> The Shakespeare quoted was from Hamlet, the poem Tonks "heard" Lon Chaney Jr. speak was from the classic film The Wolf Man. (What a fab Muggle Gran she has, exposing her to EastEnders and horror films!)
> 
> For all of you who sang sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, after dormez-vous, I heart you for that, because I did too. :D The French equivalent of Jacques is James, but the English like things to rhyme, so their version changed Jean to John when they sang, "Are you sleeping?" Ding, dang, dong!


	20. The Waiting Game

 

 

Now that Dix had cleared her to visit Remus in Salford, Tonks cheerfully informed her boss that she planned to spend her next day off duty away from the village.

"Not until after the match, you won't," Dawlish replied. "The Auror Office memorandum specified that all available personnel are to provide security."

"If I'm not on duty Saturday, I'm clearly not available."

"I can alter the schedule," Dawlish said warningly.

Tonks didn't try to argue anymore. "Fine. I love Quidditch."

On the day of the match, the sky was clear and blue. Tonks's mood was nowhere near as sunny. Her git of a boss had assigned her to patrol the Slytherin end of the pitch!

She vented her anger to Jerry on their stroll to Hogwarts, kicking rocks and leaves off the path in emphasis. He nodded sympathetically and patted her arm as they neared the school. "Maybe it won't be that bad. Harry Potter might catch the Snitch quickly."

Tonks gave his shoulder a friendly shove in response. "They were right to assign you the Hufflepuff section. You're an eternal optimistic, aren't you, mate?"

"You sting like a bumblebee," Jerry said. "I suppose it goes with your scarf."

She pulled the yellow and black fabric off and hooked it around his neck. "Thanks for reminding me. I don't want to give the little vipers an excuse to use me as a target for their venom."

Tonks kept walking toward the pitch until a thought halted her steps. It was still early. Why not patrol the changing area—see Ginny? She and her favourite pen friend hadn't done much corresponding that term. They could snatch a few minutes to catch up.

She caught a glimpse of fiery hair and jogged over to meet the girl approaching the stadium with a friend. "Ginny!"

"Tonks!"

They almost toppled over, hugging. "It's so good to see you!" Ginny cried. "Are you here for the match?"

"I can't wait to see Gryffindor's finest Chaser in action."

Ginny glanced back at the brown-haired girl standing a short distance away. "Demelza's a Chaser too," she said in an undertone.

"Eavesdroppers never hear well of themselves," Tonks whispered. She grinned. "At least I never have."

Ginny looked at her teammate. "Go on ahead," she said with a smile. "I'll catch up."

"All right. I'll set out your Quidditch robes." The frost-laden grass made crunching noises beneath Demelza's feet.

"Nice of her," Tonks said. The expression on Ginny's face caused her to add, "Or is it?"

"I think she's nice." Ginny shrugged. "But I've thought that before only to learn my new  _friend_  hoped I'd fix her up with Harry." She laughed shortly. "If she's using me, we'll see how good Demelza really is at dodging Bludgers."

They walked in silence toward the changing rooms until Tonks asked, "Does that bloodthirsty tone mean He-Whose-Inner-Eye-Also-Needed-Spectacles is finally coming round? Are you seeing each other?"

"No. I'm going with Dean Thomas." Ginny smiled tightly. "That's why I haven't owled. I knew you wouldn't approve."

"I'd never judge you," Tonks said. "Merlin knows I had a Mr. Right Now before Mr. Right came along."

Ginny's stiff posture relaxed. "Was he a good kisser?" she asked, sounding embarrassed.

It was Tonks's turn to feel awkward. Evan Rosier the second had been a Slytherin snake—and diabolically clever at French kissing. "Let's just say he helped refine my technique," she said. "Girl's got to do it somehow, right?"

"Right." Ginny stopped near the door to the players' entrance. "Here," she said, taking off her scarf. "I want you to have this so you can think of your Mr. Right and wish me luck."

"You don't need it," Tonks said firmly. "All you need is to wait for the right time to make your move."  _On and off the pitch._

Ginny hugged her. "Take it anyway—and thanks."

"To get it back you'll have to owl." Tonks wrapped the scarlet and gold scarf around her neck, playfully wagging a tasselled end back and forth.

"It's a gift—and I'll owl because I've missed my friend."

 

Ginny's parting words gave Tonks a warm feeling that didn't fade until she joined the crowd heading for the stands and heard Slytherins muttering about, "the nerve of that Auror witch." She glanced down and made a face. If there was one thing worse than patrolling the Slytherin end of the pitch wearing a Hufflepuff scarf, it was sporting Gryffindor colours!

Hastily, she began casting nonverbal charms learned during an otherwise useless Magical Law Enforcement seminar on riot preparedness.

Before the match, she ignored taunts while protective spells ensured spitballs and other projectiles bounced or slid harmlessly off her person. Tonks could have used a Concealment Charm to hide the scarf, but her Black Streak made her flaunt it instead.

The barrage of abuse tapered down once the teams mounted their brooms. It was then that a new annoyance began—the commentating. She inwardly added her jeers to those rising from the stands. Whoever was speaking was an idiot. When Tonks heard a boy say that Zacharias Smith was a typical Hufflepuff—second rate—it triggered a memory of the day she had presented her Head of House with a petition to change Hufflepuff's colours.

" _Yellow and black is the worst colour scheme at Hogwarts!" she declared forcefully. "It virtually dooms us to last place every year! Who can be competitive in yellow? It's too nice!"_

_Sprout glanced down at the petition. "Pink and black isn't?"_

_"Hell, no!"_

Back in seventh year, her "cheek" had earned Tonks a steely look and detention. Today it got her visual daggers when she caught the eye of a Slytherin girl glowering at her scarf and quipped, "Want to trade up?"

Shouts of "Harper lost the Snitch!" drowned out whatever comment the girl made in response.

Nearby, a first-year boy shouted angrily, "We would've won if Vaisey wasn't injured and Malfoy too sick to play!"

The spell-amplified sound of a crash drew everyone's attention toward the commentator's podium. Tonks didn't even look. She walked away from the students craning their necks to see what had happened.

She felt like slapping the heel of her palm against her forehead. Why hadn't she been suspicious from the beginning? Remus, when she'd once confided her feelings of pity for her cousin, told her that Draco wasn't an innocent victim of his father's ambition. The boy had faked an injury during Remus's time at Hogwarts and insisted that the Slytherin/Gryffindor match be rescheduled—at his team's convenience.

Draco had cleverly used an "injury" to benefit his team before—why not now? What was more important than Slytherin winning the match?

She veered in the direction of the teachers' box and found members of the staff were already picking their way across the lawn to return to the castle. "Do not openly address me," Snape said through his teeth when she neared. "Go to my office."

Tonks strode past him as though she were still patrolling, although she wondered what was Professor Snarky’s problem.

Someone tugged the end of her scarf. It was Savage.

"I saw Connelly wearing Hufflepuff colours, and now here you are decked out like a Gryffindor. What a cute couple you are." Savage smirked. "Do you trade knickers too? Bet Connelly likes your thongs a lot less than you do his boxers."

She cast a silent  _Petrificus Totalus._ "I don't know if you're missing your ex-girlfriend or bitter you haven't found a replacement," Tonks said, "but I've had enough of you. One more inappropriate comment and I'm going to file a complaint with the Auror Office." She smiled nastily. "D'you remember Tim Spall? He was in your training class. Had a nice career until he harassed the wrong witch. Be sad if you ended up like him, guarding bodies in the morgue." She released him from the binding charm and strode away.

Snape said, "Enter" before she knocked.

"Watching the door? I'm flattered." She leaned back against the wood panel, not in the mood to sit and chat politely. "Did you think Savage would gossip if you spoke to me?"

"Students."

"Oh." That made sense. Tonks said, "Speaking of students, what's wrong with Draco Malfoy?"

"He's ill."

"With what?"

"An illness."

"Suspicious, isn't it?" she asked. "Draco gets sick and doesn't try to reschedule the match the way he did before?"

Snape curled a lip. "Perhaps he no longer attempts to pull strings because his father no longer has influence with the Board of Governors."

"He's in the hospital wing?" Tonks reached for the door handle. "I'll drop by, see how he's doing."

"Draco is resting in his dorm."

She gaped incredulously. "Do you really believe that?"

Snape's eyes flickered toward a desk drawer. "The castle's magic interferes with surveillance objects outside designated areas, so I have no way of ascertaining his current whereabouts."

"Can't you ask a house-elf?"

"If I want the inquiry reported to Dumbledore."

Tonks exhaled noisily. "Isn't there  _anything_ you can do?"

"There is something." Snape regarded her speculatively. "It requires your cooperation."

"Meaning...?"

"You are Draco's cousin. The same blood flows through your veins."

She tried to get her head around what he was implying. "A blood tracing spell? Isn't that Dark magic?"

"Do you intend a Dark purpose?"

"No."

"You have my answer." He lifted a brow. "Are you willing?"

Tonks picked up a letter opener off the desk and pricked her skin. She wordlessly held out her hand, sorely tempted to say, _Sure. I've always wanted to give you the finger._

A few minutes later, after a spell and a Disillusionment Charm, Tonks followed Snape up the main staircase. "How come I'm the Invisible Sidekick, and you're the one charging up the steps?" she grumbled.

"Seniority."

He kept climbing until they reached the seventh floor. Tonks saw his nostrils flare; his features tighten. She said, "Draco came here. Why?"

"He no longer confides in me, but I will endeavour to find out."

She said, "I know about the Room of Requirement."

Snape paused on his way to the staircase. "The door will not appear. Our need to discover would be considered merely a want."

There was a resentful edge to his tone. Tonks almost laughed. "Found out the hard way, did you?"

He continued downstairs without answering.

 

 

Remus had just finished making the bed with clean sheets when he heard Nymphadora call his name. He retrieved the communication mirror from the bedside table. "Hello, love.”

"Gryffindor won the match and I'm finally on my way!" She blew him a kiss. "There's so much I want to tell you. See you soon!"

_Soon._

The word brought a smile to Remus's lips. How many times when they were apart had he told himself that every passing day would bring them together that much sooner? Too many to count. He glanced around the tidy, spartan room and realised what was missing. Flowers.

He couldn't afford long-stemmed red roses, but he could scrape enough Galleons together for a small bouquet or a single, perfect rosebud. Something to symbolise the colour and beauty she brought into his life.

Remus chuckled over his romanticism: an ironic quality for a man who prided himself on facing harsh realities. Downstairs, he found Will and Lillie stretched out on the sofa, playing Tonsil Quidditch. The match looked too close to call, although Lillie was currently on top. Using a spell to lower the volume on the MegaMaggot orb spinning on the side table, Remus went into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

"Any chance of sandwiches to go with that tea?" Will called.

How the boy had heard the whistle over pounding bass was a mystery. Remus checked the coolant cabinet. "I can fix bacon and tomato."

The music abruptly halted. "Brilliant! I'm starved."

"So that's why you've been trying to eat me up." Lillie giggled.

"I'm a hungry wolf," Will said. "And you're tasty."

Remus almost asked them to give the orb another spin. "Do you want your bread toasted?" he called, placing rashers of bacon in a pan. A spell grilled them in seconds. He set the meat aside and cooked another batch.

Will and Lillie joined him in the kitchen. "Yeah," Will said. He took the knife Remus offered and began to slice a tomato.

Lillie brought out plates and cutlery. "Isn't Nym supposed to be here?"

"Soon." Need and longing welled up, clenching his muscles. Remus smiled. He was a hungry wolf too.

Will said, "Good. She always brings food."

A chime announced that they had a visitor.

"I'll get it!" Lillie headed toward the front door. A few seconds later, Remus heard her cry, "Mum! What are you doing here?"

"Where is he?" Delia Bowen's voice was a growl. Remus put down the rack of bread he'd toasted and strode into the other room.

"You!" Lillie's mother spat. "This is all your doing,  _Lupin._ " Her bear like eyes glittered dangerously.

Will charged out of the kitchen. "Don't blame him. I'm the one who's taking Lillie to Inverness with me." He looked sheepishly at Remus. "We were going to tell you over lunch."

"It's my decision to make,  _mother._ What do I have to lose? A crap job? I can be a shopgirl anywhere." Lillie's ponytail swung as she lifted her chin defiantly. "If you think Remus gave us the money for a flat, he didn't. It was Dad. He's being supportive—unlike you!"

"Does your  _father_ know he's paying to keep a werewolf? He's always been prejudiced."

Lillie's expression turned gloating. "Daddy's partner is a Healer for magical creatures. Adrienne respects Will for wanting to make something of his life so Daddy does too." The girl's face scrunched up. "You're the one who's prejudiced against Will, and I can't stand living with it anymore!"

Delia's face lost all colour. The lines bracketing her eyes and mouth seemed to deepen.

Remus suddenly realised that hurt was responsible for the tears in the woman's eyes as much as anger. He felt sorry for her. "Look," he said. "I've made tea. Why don't we all sit—"

"Always the gentleman, the professor with all the answers," Delia said bitterly. "Keep your tea, Lupin. I'll talk to my daughter in private when she returns home."

Lillie crossed her arms. " _If_ I return home."

"You'll return," Delia said sharply. "I have your Orpheus Orb collection."

Delia marched to the door. The ward chimed at the same instant she jerked the handle.

Nymphadora stood on the doorstep, brightening the dull landscape with her smile and short red cloak. "Wotcher," she said, "We weren't introduced at the party. I'm—"

"Little Red Riding Hood, complete with her basket of goodies." Delia flashed Remus a contemptuous look and stomped off.

"I would've shared," Nymphadora said, entering the flat. She handed Will a sturdy jute shopping bag. "Oh well. More steak for you." After a round of greetings, she hugged Remus. "Are you ready to go?" she asked after a brief kiss.

"We were just about to eat," he said, wondering what his nymph was up to now.

Nymphadora sighed dramatically. "You forgot our plans? I made reservations, so give Will your share. We can't be late."

"Don't worry, professor. I'll make sure no food goes to waste," Will said, grinning wolfishly.

"I'm sure," Remus opened the door. "After you, my love."

She gave him a sultry look as she brushed past him. "You're such a gentleman."

Behind them, Will sniggered.

Once they were outside, Nymphadora took his hand as they began to walk. "What's so funny about you being a gentleman?" she said. "I think it's sexy."

Remus lifted her hand to his lips. "Delia used the word in a derogatory manner."

"And she's divorced and bitter? What a surprise." Nymphadora kissed his palm. "Forget everyone else. I love you, I missed you, and if several of your neighbours weren't watching, I'd snog you."

"Since when have you cared about discretion?" Remus asked, amused.

"Since I realised indiscretion could harm you." Her fingers squeezed his. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. Even behave myself." She winked. "At least until we reach our destination."

"Our destination?"

"Someplace we can be alone, where we don't have to share a bathroom with teenagers who sing duets in the shower."

He chuckled. "A cheap Muggle hotel near the train station?"

"A posh Muggle hotel with a view of the water and room service."

Remus knew he should have protested the waste of money, but the look on Nymphadora's face told him she was determined to have her way, and he couldn't help wanting to give it to her—and more. He didn't have flowers, but there something else to give.

He let go of her fingers to curve his hand around the base of her neck, enjoying the way her eyes widened in surprise. Her lips parted when he covered her mouth with his, opening in the same way she opened her heart: freely and passionately. Heat surged through his body. Desire burned hot, turning to ash any faint, remaining inhibition about public displays of affection. He breathed in the scent of her skin and made a noise of satisfaction deep in his throat, giving himself over to the kiss and his love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Quidditch match at the beginning of November (ch 14 HBP) was pivotal in many ways, so I couldn't help wanting to weave Tonks into the backstory, and give Ginny's "refine his technique" comment about Ron during the party afterwards a less witchy slant. :D Draco faking an injury happened in PoA. As for "Tim Spall" being homage to the actor Timothy Spall who plays repugnant characters so well, maybe it is and maybe it is! 
> 
> Jute's a natural fibre (a tropical cousin of the European lime) and shopping bags made of it are sturdy, reusable, and far better for the environment than plastic. (Not that I'm an eco-nut who thinks humans are a virus, lol, just a writer who thinks an English witch toting a polythene bag would be OOC, and if less Muggles toted them it would be a good thing, too. :D)


	21. While Waiting

 

_The room on the top floor was worth the extra money. Tonks wriggled her bare toes in the plush carpet before striding across the sitting area to open the curtains and reveal the magnificent vista of water and skyline beyond._

_"Lovely view," Remus said behind her._

_She threw a cheeky glance over her shoulder. "Are you referring to the bay or my bum?"_

_Still lying prone across cream-coloured sheets, Remus smiled wolfishly. "What bay?"_

_Tonks ran back to the bed to pin her lover and cover his face with kisses. "Just for that, I'm going to kiss you everywhere the sun shines."_

_His amber eyes gleamed. "You've flooded the room with sunlight."_

_She laughed deep in her throat._

 

"What's so funny?" Jerry asked.

Jolted back to reality, Tonks realised she’d been staring off, laughing to herself. It was no wonder her partner was giving her a wary look. They were standing in front of the Hog's Head, directly beneath the gory sign! She must have patrolled in a daze, thinking about Remus.

Tonks said the first thing that came to her mind. "Food."

Jerry's eyebrows shot up.

She shrugged. "I have a hankering for steak with mushrooms, battered onion rings and chips."  _Like the steak Remus and I ordered from room service._ Tonks made a face. "But we're more likely to get shepherd's pie with minced mystery meat."

A frown creased Jerry's brow beneath his tidy, side-parted fringe. "Isn't shepherd's pie made with lamb?"

"If our landlord isn't doing the cooking." Instantly, she felt mean for making Jerry worry about dinner. "Don't listen to me," she said. "I'm displacing frustration, as my mum would say."

_And after two weeks of Dix and Dawlish participating in an unknowing conspiracy to keep me apart from Remus, I've built up a lot of frustration, mate!_

"Frustration?"

Her face heated. "Yeah," she tried to say casually. "I haven't had great—steak—in weeks."

Her naughty side sniggered in her ear.  _Great sex, you mean!_

Jerry grinned. "I can take care of that."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can. Hamish told me about an inn that serves the best steaks in the Highlands. It's on the Floo Network in a village near Loch Ness." His face lit up with boyish eagerness. "We could take a walk and look for Nessie!"

"In the dark?" Tonks could imagine Jerry and herself peering out at the loch, wands held high, until a random splash caused them to yell and make a run for it. She shook her head.

"Oh. Right. I suppose not," Jerry said. His crestfallen expression lightened. "But we could go for the steak."

They could. She had boycotted the Broomsticks since Rosmerta unfairly kicked her out, and was sick and tired of eating at the Hog's Head. Tonks wanted to dine somewhere people had decent table manners and where she didn't have to use a sanitising spell on the cutlery and plates. She clapped him on the shoulder. "Clear it with Dawlish and I'm in."

A couple of hours later, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling at Remus's reflection in the Melusine Mirror. After he told her about his day of investigating potential brewers of Wolfsbane Potion, she happily shared her plans for dinner.

Remus regarded her thoughtfully before asking, "What are you wearing?"

"The red jumper I wore for you as a minidress with my wide-legged black trousers. My combat boots give the outfit a Cossack look."

He didn't smile the way she'd expected.

When he remained silent, she got defensive. "It isn't my Little Red Riding Hood outfit, and this is  _Jerry,_ for Merlin's sake! It's like you going to dinner with Will," she said. "It isn't a date!"

"Not on your part."

"Not on his, either!"

"I hope not."

Tonks decided to change the subject before they had a row over something stupid. "So," she said brightly, "what are you having for dinner?"

"Shepherd's pie—or rather, cottage pie, since all we have is minced beef."

For the second time that day, Tonks felt guilty. Why had she nattered on about steak? "I'm sure yours is much better than the pie our landlord serves."

"I learned the recipe from Hagrid," Remus said. "He taught me how to mash potatoes." The corners of his mouth turned up. "Although smash potato is the more apt description."

"Sounds like fun."

Remus's smile widened. "It was…and is."

They chatted about their experiences with Hagrid's cooking, especially the jaw-locking, gooey disaster masquerading as treacle fudge. As they said goodbye, Tonks promised to contact Remus later to bid him a proper goodnight. "It's the next best thing to being cuddled next to you, whispering 'I love you' in the dark."

"And holding your hand..." Remus's wistful expression made her long to wrap her arms around him. "I'll keep the mirror close," he said.

 

Missing Remus made it hard for Tonks to dredge up a cheerful greeting when she opened the door to Jerry.

He complimented her outfit, bringing her thoughts back to Remus again. If she had dressed for her lover, she would've worn sheer black stockings instead of trousers and looked forward to a very different end of the evening! "Ta, Thanks," she said, "You look—erm—spiffy."

Jerry wore black dress robes.

_He looks dressed up for a date_  said the wicked little voice at the back of her mind.

Tonks silently cursed her wretched Black Streak and her acute sense of smell. Jerry never wore cologne, but he was wearing some now. It didn't suit him, being woody and spicy instead of clean and fresh. The scent would've suited Remus much better.

Jerry smiled self-consciously. "All I have with me is casual clothes so I went by Gladrags. This was the only set in my size. Am I overdressed? I could wear my Auror robes."

"No, spiffy's fine, let's go," she said breezily. On the way downstairs, Tonks joked, "I hope we don't run into Snape. He thinks he has a monopoly on mandarin collars."

Jerry chuckled. "I look like Snape?"

The image of Jerry with Professor Snarky hair had her snorting with laughter. "Nah," she said. "More like a priest I once saw at Gran's church."

_The one who left the priesthood to marry a parishioner?_

_Shut it, you,_ Tonks mentally ordered what her Gran would call the devil on her shoulder. She pictured the little imp as herself in Halloween gear, blowing a kiss after applying flame red lipstick. It was disturbing that she couldn't envision an angelic counterpart.

_That's because you're no angel._

"Is that good?" Jerry asked.

_For me it is. Saints are boring._

Tonks got a hold on her runaway imagination. "Yes," she said firmly. "It's very nice." She nodded in emphasis and marched through the pub toward the corridor leading to the public Floo. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dawlish, Savage, and Proudfoot huddled around a table, likely panting for a round of man gossip the second she and Jerry were out of hearing range. She made a V with two fingers and tapped against her thigh as she walked—one tap for each judgmental git.

"Where are we going?" she asked when they reached the Floo.

"Drumnadrochit Inn."

Tonks took a pinch of Floo powder from the wooden box on the mantel. "Say that again slowly."

"Drum-na-DROCH-it," Jerry said. "Droch softens at the end, like loch, not lock. It's easy."

"If you say so." Tonks carefully copied his pronunciation.

At her destination, she stepped out of the fireplace onto a marble hearth of the entry, noting that the inn was larger and more posh than she had expected. It wasn't a casual, combat boots kind of place. She shrugged.

Jerry exited the Floo, coughing. Tonks pounded him on the back before wiping at the powder on his shoulders. "What did you do? Drop the box?" A layer of fine green powder covered his robes.

Brown freckles seemed to jump out from flushed skin. "Yes."

His embarrassment struck a chord of empathy. How many times had she been clumsy in the past?

Not wanting to count that high, she took out her wand. It only took a few moments to perform her oft-used dry cleaning spell. "All better," Tonks said briskly, emulating the tone her mother had always taken with her.

Jerry's stiff posture relaxed. "Thanks."

"Anything for a friend."

" _Welcome to Drumnadrochit,"_ said a hearty male voice. A bald wizard with a red plaid draped over his shoulder bustled in from what she guessed was the restaurant, hand outstretched. "Donald Cameron, innkeeper and maitre d. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Connelly. Pleased to meet you."

Poor Jerry was blushing again. He shook the man's hand. "Jerry Connelly." He turned to Tonks. "This is—"

"Nymphadora Tonks," she said, taking beefy fingers in a firm clasp. "Call me Tonks. Charming place you have."

Their host, after smoothly apologising for his error, chatted about the restoration projects he'd taken on after buying the inn a few years prior. "Worth every Galleon," he said, escorting them to the dining area softly lit with floating candles. He led them to a table in the centre of the room. "Like our steak."

Tonks sighed in appreciation of sparkling silver and spotless glassware. "I'm sure it is."

After Jerry pushed in her chair, she ran her fingertips across the crisp white linen tablecloth. "This was a brilliant idea, mate."

"You haven't tasted the steak yet."

She moved the red rose centrepiece to the side of the table. It reminded her of Remus's old flat above the Patils' corner shop and the single, perfect rose he always placed next to the mattress on the floor of his safe room. Memories of sleepy morning kisses and rose petals trailed across her skin brought a lump to her throat.

Abruptly aware that Jerry waited for her to respond, she said, "I don't need to. As your mother would say, this is  _obviously_ an establishment of  _quality."_ When he gave a soft laugh over her imitating his mum's accent, she asked, "How is Mrs. C these days? I'm surprised she hasn't dragged your dad to Hogsmeade to make sure her  _darling Jerreth_  is properly cared for." Tonks asked curiously, "Isn't she worried you'll be snapped up by some village girl?"

"Not any more."

Their server approached, turning the conversation to food and drink. On the motherly Tambra's high recommendation, they chose Scottish ale to complement their steak. Tonks enjoyed the malty, full-bodied brew, but didn't think Jerry liked it much. He only took small sips.

Once Tambra served their dinners, Tonks said, "When you get the chance, he'd like a glass of lemonade."

Jerry said, "That's not necessary."

Tonks waved a hand airily to cut off the weak protest. "I'll finish your ale so it won't go to waste. You don't have to feel guilty about thirsty wizards somewhere."

Tambra said, "I've heard starving children, but never thirsty wizards. I wonder if that line would get my kids to drink more water?"

"It never got me to finish my milk," Tonks admitted with a grin. "I liked the idea of some kid blinking in surprise when my glass appeared on the table before them, but my mum would never use the transportation spell."

"I would've loved for my Brussels sprouts to have vanished," said Tambra.

When the server ambled over to check on other patrons, Tonks narrowed her eyes at Jerry. "You always cleared your plate, didn't you?" She shook her head in mock-disgust when he nodded. "Mummy's boy."

"Is that what you think of me?"

Oh, crap, she'd hurt his feelings. "I was just taking the piss out of you, not making fun—well, not in a mean way."

"It's all right," he said with a resigned smile. "I've heard it before."

"From who? Anne? Meg? Whichever psycho ex-girlfriend told you that is—"

"Every girl I've ever dated said that, actually. Are they all wrong?"

"Yeah!" she said, snatching up her knife to hack into her steak. "You're  _nice_. Nice men respect their mothers. You need a nice girl who will respect you for that!" She stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and pointed it at him. "Not too nice, though, or your mum will drive her off." She chewed the steak and gave a moan of approval. "This is fabulous. Stop talking and eat."

Jerry's slight smile told her he knew who had really been jabbering on, but he obediently cut into his steak.

At the end of the excellent dinner, Tonks wasn't eager to return to the solitary confinement of her cell-like room above the Hog's Head. She asked Tambra, "Is there anyplace around here we could play darts?"

"The inn has a pub 'round the back."

Tonks looked at Jerry. "Are we on for a match?"

He smiled like an overgrown wizard scout. "Yeah!"

They strolled around the two-storied, whitewashed inn and discovered no sign announced the entrance to the Drumnadrochit pub. Entering through a weathered green door behind a young couple, Tonks found the air of worn comfort an appealing contrast to the luxury of the inn. Dark wood panels and faded leather seating revealed no refurbishment had gone on in this area. Tonks guessed the locals preferred it that way. Villagers crammed into the warm, peaty-smelling space.

The wizened barman was much friendlier than her goat of a landlord. He rattled off a list of ales and lagers when she asked what the house specialties were.

"Tell her aboot the cider," the heavyset wizard on her right said loudly. He leered at Tonks while elbowing his mate in the stomach.

The man belched when nudged. "Go on, McEwan," he said, blearily taking his cue. "Make a galoot of yerself."

Although both the unpleasant men reeked of whisky and beer, Tonks labelled the two Stinky Bastard and Beer Breath to differentiate between the one who looked mean and nasty, and the one who appeared merely following his friend's lead. "Do you make your own cider?" she asked the barman, right after using a nonverbal spell to return the repulsive stench to its source.

The second, more inebriated wizard, blinked confusedly as a "breeze" ruffled his hair.

The one standing beside her smiled unpleasantly. "Yeh got tricks, lass? Me too."

Jerry stepped forward. "Perhaps we should go," he said in a low voice.

Tonks didn't budge. "After a glass of cider and a darts match."

The barman had already pulled her a pint. "I use apple juice, fruits and spices to combine the subtlety of wine with beer."

"Sounds good," she said, taking the glass and a drink. "Tastes even better."

Jerry exhaled heavily. "Look—"

She set her pint down on the bar with a thud. "No, you—" She broke off when a small group moved toward the door. "Look," she said. "There's a darts board open. Let's grab it. One match and we'll leave. Please?" Her puppy dog eyes weren't up to Sirius-standards, but they were effective.

Jerry said, "All right."

"Beg pardon, lass. Yeh forgot yer cider." The one she thought of as Stinky Bastard jerked his head toward the bar.

"Ta, Thanks," she said, surprised that he would bother to remind her, and courteously at that.

His smile bared teeth that didn't chew brushing/flossing mints often. "My pleasure." He looked at Jerry and ruined the gesture of chivalry by saying, "If I was you, I'd get her to bed, soon, lad."

Jerry drew himself up to his full height. "I'm not a lad. I'm an Auror, and you've had enough to drink tonight. You'd best go home and sleep it off."

Stinky Bastard and his crony Beer Breath left the pub so quickly they practically fell over themselves. Tonks almost had cider dripping from her nose the sight was so hilarious. "Merlin, Jerry!" she gasped. "I think you scared them sober!"

He took the half-empty glass out of her hand and set it on a table near the darts board. "Something you're not."

She giggled. "I've had two measly-weasley drinks. No one gets plastered on that." She reached up and pinched Jerry's cheeks. "'Cept maybe  _you_ , my wizard scout friend."

He stared at her doubtfully.

Tonks grabbed a handful of darts and held one up, trying to keep a straight face. "Play with me or become a human target."

Jerry huffed with amusement. "I'll play."

She gave him a hug. "I'll try not to beat you badly."

Tonks tried her best, but the darts were defective or had a jinx on them, because she never hit what she aimed for. She squinted at the dartboard, attempting to bring it into clearer focus.

"Why do you have one eye closed?" Jerry asked, after scoring a triple.

"I'm doin' an experiment." She threw a dart. It hit the board on the opposite side from where she wanted it. "Bloody hell! My eyesight's wonky!" Her bottom lip turned down.

Jerry patted her on the arm. "It's all right. I haven't been keeping score."

She reached up on tiptoes to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek. "You're the best!" All of a sudden, Tonks swayed on her feet. She clutched the front of Jerry's robes. "Stars, mate, I don' feel so good."

He gripped her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy—hot," she said miserably. Why was the room spinning?

Jerry lifted her chin to look in her eyes. His fingers felt blessedly cool. "I'm going to summon a Healer," he said.

"No. I'm not sick."

"Yes, you are. Your eyes are dilated and your skin is flushed." His palm cupped her cheek. "Can you walk? If not, I'll carry you."

Tears slipped down her face. Tonks felt so bad; all she wanted was to curl up and sleep.

The thought of bed triggered a memory.

_If I was you, I'd get her to bed, soon, lad._

"My cider," she said through a surge of anger. "That bastard put somethin' in my drink!" Tonks spat a filthy word. "How could I be so stupid? We learned about this in training!"

Witches who left drinks unattended in a pub or accepted champagne from an "admirer" ran the risk of being drugged with date-rape potions. Tonks would bet her last Galleon that Get Her to Bed was the street name of one of them. She thought of the girls who woke up bruised and violated with no memory of what had happened. Her stomach twisted with spasms.

"My glass—evidence." She retched violently onto the floor.

The villagers had gathered around them, muttering and gasping in reaction. They stepped back from the spreading pool of vomit.

"Send for a Healer NOW!" Jerry yelled, leaving her side to collect the tainted cider.

"Poor thing, I'll have this cleared in a trice," said a voice softly-accented with a Scottish brogue.

Tonks looked sideways at the old woman who waved her wand to vanish the mess on the floor. When the kindly witch moved closer to use her spells to clean Tonks's clothing and skin, her features seemed to blur and shift.

"Gran!" Tonks cried. "How did you get here? Are you and Mr. Santini on holiday?"

Jerry returned with the charm-sealed glass. "Tonks, that's not your grandmother. You've been drugged." He slipped the "evidence" into a pocket. "I'm taking you out of here."

"There's a rear door that connects to the inn," someone called out.

Tonks felt the room heave like a ship in a storm when Jerry lifted her into his arms. She groaned. "No. I could vomit on you."

"I'm washable."

Inexplicably, she giggled.

Jerry walked faster.

The motion caused her stomach to lurch. Tonks closed her eyes, concentrating fiercely on keeping whatever remained of the contents in her stomach. Vaguely, it registered that she was being carried up a staircase and down a corridor. Still it was a shock to feel her body lowered to a mattress. "Am I in hospital?" she asked dazedly.

"Not yet," said a cool male voice. "I'm here to determine if that's necessary."

Tonks cracked open her eyes to peer up at the wizard standing beside the bed. "First you won' teach me to brew Wolfsbane Potion, and now you'll send me to hospital? Thanks for nothing, Snape." Her face crumpled. Stinky or snarky, men could be such bastards! She turned her face to the wall.

Words and phrases penetrated her mental fog.

_Side effects...hallucinations...no counter potion...watch for Respiratory Distress...Cameron contacted local MLE and your superior...unless her condition worsens I'll return in the morning._

She was sleepy, but whoever was talking kept her awake. A line from a wizard punk rock song rolled through her mind. She sang tiredly, "Shut up, shut up, shut up, don't wanna hear it..."

The blathering continued. Tonks grew tetchy. "Get out, get out, get out," she sang a little louder.

She smiled when silence fell, and was almost asleep when a gentle touch on her cheek awakened her. Tonks opened heavy lids to see a man leaning over her. As she watched, his face came into focus.

It was Remus.

Tears of joy sprang to her eyes. "You always take care of me."

"It's no trouble," he whispered, taking her pulse before feeling her forehead with the backs of his fingers. "The Healer said your increased body temperature is beneficial in fighting the potion."

Tonks pulled fretfully at her top. "I don't want to sleep in clothes. It's too hot."

"Do—do you need assistance?"

She gave up her attempt to sit up and fell back against the pillow. "I'm so damn weak. I hate it."

"It isn't weak to ask for help." Remus pulled her tunic up and off without trouble, but had a hard time unbuttoning her trousers.

Tonks frowned. "You're making me feel fat."

"I'm sorry," he said huskily. "I haven't done this in a while."

"Damn Dawlish," she muttered. "Dix too."

"Beg pardon?"

She unfastened the front clasp of her bra. "I don't care if the ad says it's barely there." Tonks held out her arm. "Take this off, please."

"All right, I'll just—uh—pull up the sheet."

Tonks feebly kicked her legs. "No! I'm hot!"

"You'll get cold later."

She took his hand and pressed it to her heart. "You'll keep me warm."

"No—"

"Yes! I feel like shit, and the only thing besides a brushing/flossing mint that's going to make me feel better is your arms around me." Tonks raised his hand to her lips. "Stay."

Remus backed away to unbutton his robes. "If you'll wear my shirt."

"You'll have to dress me."

He shook his head, smiling.

A short while later they were lying together in the dark, facing each other on their sides. "This isn't the way I wanted to cuddle with you," she said, "but I'm glad you're here. I love you."

"I love you, too."

She scooted closer. "Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?"

Remus took so long to answer, Tonks wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

"Yes," he breathed against her lips, before covering her mouth in a long, sweet, kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I outline chapters. This one, I knew how I wanted it to start, but the rest came as I wrote, and turned out as Tonks's pov. Remus will have his turn next time, when he deals with Tonks not contacting him...and why... (Hums Blue Christmas) Jerry's cologne I based on two David Beckham eau de toilette sprays, Intimacy and Instinct, in homage to readers who have suspected Jerry of wanting intimacy with Tonks for some time now; you have good instincts. (Ba-dum-bum)
> 
> The "potion" slipped into Tonks's drink was based on the date rape drug gamma hydroxy-butyric, (GHB). It's odourless, colourless, and very hard to taste when added to food or drink. It takes effect quickly, resulting in euphoria and disinhibition, mimicking alcohol intoxication in early stages and carrying the risk of nasty, even fatal, side effects. One of the lesser-known street names for it is Get-Her-To-Bed. If anyone reads this chapter and makes a vow never to take a "complimentary" drink from a stranger in a pub or leave a drink unattended on a bar, I'll be a happy writer.
> 
> I took the cider description from a Canadian brand called "Mystique". I don't drink, so I have to look stuff up. Hope no one sees my search history and thinks I have drug and alcohol problems. :D The "wizard-punk" song bears an uncanny resemblance to Shut Up by Simple Plan. Anyone who hasn't heard it can look it up on youtube.


	22. I've Been Waiting

 

Remus ran a thumb over the reflective surface of the communication mirror. His thoughts dwelled on Nymphadora. He didn't begrudge her a change of scenery or the dinner. He wanted her to have an enjoyable evening; she deserved it.

That genuine wish didn't alter the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He was jealous.

As he slipped the mirror into a pocket, Remus heard his love's voice ringing with exasperation.

_This is Jerry, for Merlin's sake! It's like you going to dinner with Will. It isn't a date!_

Not to her, but she refused to acknowledge that her Auror partner might view the outing differently. Remus understood why. Jerry was her only true friend in Hogsmeade.

The sound of knocking was a welcome interruption of his thoughts.

"When's dinner?" Will called through the panel.

Remus opened the door. "Less than an hour if I have assistance."

Will's eyes narrowed behind his shaggy blonde fringe. "What do you want me to do?"

Ten minutes later, seated at the wobbly two-seater table in the cramped kitchen, the boy scowled at a half-peeled potato. " _Glubere_ is a difficult spell."

Remus used a charm to light the cooker. "You can always peel the Muggle way."

"No, I can't. I melted the peeler last week."

"Were you practicing  _Dissolvere?"_

"Only after Lillie fancied chips and I gouged my finger trying to make some," Will said with a grin. "We ended up going out."

Remus set an iron skillet on the hob. He breathed in the scent of beef mince and onions and tried not to think about what Nymphadora was having for dinner. With only two days left until the full moon, he craved steak almost as much as he desired his lover. "Melt anything tonight and you'll go hungry."

"No worries. Lillie said she might drag her mum along to dinner. Delia likes cottage pie."

"I didn't think it was our scintillating conversation that appealed." Remus used a charm to defrost a packet of frozen peas before adding them to a bowl with sliced carrots.

Will laughed. "Yeah, Lillie's mum thinks your ideas for the pack are  _top-lofty_." With a flick of his wrist, he finished his task. "There! Done. Want me to levitate them over to the pot?"

"I'd rather not risk scalding." Remus carried the potatoes over. "Excellent spellwork," he said. "Very little veg came off with the peel."

"What can I say? I'm a natural."

The smug tone made Remus smile. If he had yet to sway any pack members from supporting Voldemort, at least he had taught Will the skills needed to live on his own terms as a wizard. He would miss his young friend.

 

When their guests arrived a half hour later, Remus was checking the pie. The cheese had melted and the chopped leeks had started to brown. He took the dish out of the oven and turned to find Delia watching him from the doorway. He noticed the bottle in her hand. "Red wine—splendid—glasses are in the top left cupboard." He set the pie down on the table and began dishing out the food.

She edged around him to open the cupboard. "I don't see wine glasses."

"We make do with regular glassware."

Lillie had entered the kitchen. "For Merlin's sake, Mum, don't be a snob! I don't give a toss if I drink out of a jam pot. Pour the plonk and let's eat!" She took her plate and Will's out to the lounge.

"Shall I serve the wine while you carry our plates and cutlery?" Remus asked when Delia finished sloshing wine into glasses.

Her eyes met his and skittered away. "It's not plonk, and I was making a statement, not tearing you down, Lupin."

Remus could tell by Delia's tone that she was embarrassed. On top of Lillie's disparagement of the wine as cheap, it would sting to be called a snob, even if one was a reverse snob who assumed "top-lofty" professors drank from crystal flutes. Remus said, "It's quite all right," and picked up the glasses, two in each hand.

In the lounge, Lillie teased Will about the pattern along the edge of the mashed potato topping. "It's pretty. Did you do it to impress me?"

"Of course. The professor showed me how. You take a fork and press the tines—" Will demonstrated the technique.

Remus heard Delia huff and glanced sideways. He said, "My mother taught me to crosshatch everything from biscuits to pastry."

Whether it was due to the wine or the food, her response was almost cordial. "Mine did, too."

" _What?_ " Lillie leaned forward. "You never told me that!"

"You were never interested in cookery," Delia said. "It never came up."

"At least I appreciate good cooking," Lillie said. She smiled at Remus. "Yours is ace—almost as good as Mum's."

"Thank you," Remus said. He was amused by the qualifier added after a nudge by Will.

 

Hours later, alone in his room, worry had eroded all traces of his earlier good humour.

Nymphadora should have contacted him; it was almost midnight. Had something happened? Was she hurt? No one would know how to reach him in an emergency, or even that she wanted him contacted.

Remus paced back and forth.

Should he wait a little longer, or go directly to Hogsmeade to find out what was going on? He wished he could believe that Nymphadora had lost track of time in a pub holding a darts tournament or perhaps a concert by a local band. If she'd had too much to drink and staggered back to fall into bed, that too would be preferable to the fears clawing at his gut.

Bellatrix...other Death Eaters...Dark wizards she'd sent to Azkaban . . .. There were enemies who would gleefully reduce the number of Aurors in the world. Nymphadora rolled her eyes when Moody harped on constant vigilance. Had she let her guard down and suffered for it?

His hands curled into fists. In the back of his mind, a wolf growled. Remus glanced into the mirror, vaguely surprised not to see his teeth bared in a snarl. He felt in complete harmony with his inner beast. Nothing would stop him from hunting down his mate.

Remus threw on a cloak and strode to the window. A quick scan revealed no watchers below. He yanked open the sash, cast a Supergravity Spell, and jumped. Arms outstretched, he slowly fell to the ground. The moment his feet touched pavement, Remus closed his eyes and concentrated. He couldn't use the nearby wizard pub Floo without someone reporting back to Dix, and he dared not attempt long-distance Apparation yet, but months of study and practice gave him the confidence to attempt a medium-range goal. He visualised the alley beside the Manchester Floo Station and yearned to be there with every fibre of his being. Jaw clenched in determination, he turned on the spot and deliberately moved into nothingness.

He Apparated to exactly the spot he'd visualised. Before he entered the station, Remus pulled his hood up. Although Dix had forbidden petty crime, some of pack took that to mean only in Salford. Kemp, especially, boasted about his pick pocketing and handbag snatching exploits in Manchester.

None of the faces of those who lurked behind columns or glanced up as he passed their benches were familiar. Remus ducked into a Floo.

 

He stepped out of the fireplace at the Hog's Head and immediately cast a Disillusionment Charm. He wanted no one questioning his right to go upstairs to the lodgers' quarters.

A slight whoosh signalled that someone was about to exit the Floo. Remus backed away and then stood still as a squat witch in a hat and veil swaggered onto the hearth. "Gotta get comfort charms or a new pair of shoes," grumbled the "witch" Remus recognised as Mundungus Fletcher. "Mebbe I could find some what fell off the back of a broom, or barter one of old Walburga's trinkets."

Remus watched Dung teeter out of the Floo chamber. Many in the Order hotly protested the crook's ways, but Sirius wouldn't care how much junk was lifted from Grimmauld. He'd have a laugh about it.

After the tapping of heels faded, Remus went into the tavern. There were no Aurors huddled around scarred tables. At the bar, the veiled Mundungus ordered a drink from the barman. Remus slowly made his way upstairs, listening intently. He heard no creaking floorboards; no sound of water rushing through pipes, nothing to indicate there was anyone awake on the third floor—or that anyone was there at all.

He used the counter ward Nymphadora had given him to enter her room. The bed was empty. Remus checked the bedside table. There was no communication mirror. He shook out the rumpled duvet over the mattress to ensure she hadn't placed it on the bed. It wasn't there. She must be carrying it.

Remus took out his mirror and called her name. Nothing happened. He called her name again, louder.

_Be annoyed with me for checking up on you, call me an old woman for worrying, anything, just answer!_

He could almost hear the ghostly howl of a wolf crying for his mate. It threatened to rip away what little remained of his composure. Where was she? What had happened to her? " _Nymphadora!"_ he cried, willing her face to appear.

The mirror warmed in his hands.

A man's face appeared. It was Jerry Connolly. His face was shadowed and weary.

_Tell me she's not hurt._  "Where's Nymphadora?"

"Sleeping. Tonks got—uh—sick." Jerry turned his head as though looking over his shoulder. He faced Remus and said in a hushed tone, "A wizard spiked her drink, and, well, she had a bad reaction. Vomiting, fever, hallucinations. She's stable now."

"She was transported to a hospital?"

Jerry's eyes shifted away. "No, the Healer said it wasn't needed. We're in a room at the inn."

Remus was still absorbing the information when Jerry asked, "You and Tonks...you've kept in touch through communication mirrors?"

"Every night."

"Oh. That's nice."

"Yes." Remus struggled to keep his tone level. Such transparent disappointment confirmed long-held suspicions.

Jerry was in love with Nymphadora.

That was an issue better dealt with later. "What about the man who spiked her drink?" Remus asked. "Has he been arrested?"

"And a second perpetrator, too. Photographs of women—trophies—were recovered from the premises. Auror and MLE officers are arguing jurisdiction as we . . .." Jerry looked away, his voice trailing off.

Was Nymphadora's condition worsening? Was she calling for her lover? "Tell me the name of the village," Remus said, "and I'll come straight away."

"No, she's fine, there's someone's at the door. Probably Dawlish with more questions. I have to go."

"Give her a message when she wakes," Remus said quickly. "Tell Nymphadora I'll be waiting."

"All right."

Magical link severed, the mirror returned to its ordinary state. Remus sank down onto the bed.

Nymphadora drugged...ill...helpless... The images haunted him. He should be the one at her side, caring for her needs, and standing vigil through the night. Instead, Jerry was the one watching over Nymphadora.

_Touching her._

He had to stop thinking about it, resist the urge to search Jerry's room for the name of the village. If he went there, he would only jeopardise his mission. Remus rested his head on Nymphadora's pillow and drew in her scent. Deep, slow breaths slowed his pulse and calmed his mind.

He closed his eyes and waited.

 

 

Tonks opened her eyes and fought down panic. She didn't know where she was or how she’d got there. She sat up and looked around. The clock on the bedside table read six o'clock. Pale sunlight filtering through lace curtains revealed that it was morning. A wall tapestry and antique pine furnishings matched those she remembered of the inn's gathering room. She was still at the inn—brought upstairs when she fell ill. That made sense.

Her clothes she spied draped across a chair on the other side of the room. Belatedly, Tonks realised all she wore was a man's white shirt. A faint, musky smell of cologne emanated from the fabric.

A sound registered. Water. Someone was taking a shower in the ensuite bathroom.

_Remus?_

Her heart leapt, and then logic kicked in. Jerry didn't know how to contact Remus. She'd never told him about the communication mirrors, so Jerry thought she was in denial about the relationship. He felt sorry for her.

What a mess.

She prayed Remus had fallen asleep, or assumed she'd drunk too much and was sleeping it off. After two shaky steps toward her trousers and the mirror, a sudden urgency led her to the bathroom instead. "Jerry!" she called, "I'm coming in to piss!"

"Tonks! There isn't a separate toilet!"

"I don't care, I can't wait!" She threw open the door and instantly scrunched her eyes closed. "You could've told me there was a glass shower screen, Jerry."

"Sorry. I'll get a towel and—"

She made a dash for the toilet. "No time. Turn around and rinse the shampoo out of your eyes. Pretend I'm not here."

A minute later, he asked, "Are you...finished?"

"I'm not sitting here for fun," she said. "How many litres did you pour down me, anyway?"

"A couple of pitchers of ice water. You had a fever, you needed fluids."

"Thank you for taking care of me." She flushed the commode and then washed her hands and face in the wash basin. "I was stupid not to check that drink."

"No! It could happen to anyone, and because of you those bastards will be in Azkaban, not preying on women."

She almost turned to look at him. "They're in custody?"

_I hope they resisted arrest and got hexed._

"Facing enough charges to keep them in prison for life."

"Good. I'll go change and give you back your shirt."

"Don't worry about it. Savage brought me another one."

She paused at the door, ready to turn the handle. "You let people in the room?"  _While I was off my bloody head with fever, wearing only knickers and your shirt?_

"Just the Healer. Everyone else I spoke to at the door."

"Thanks."

In the bedroom, Tonks took off Jerry's shirt and froze. Why hadn't she noticed before that she didn't smell of sickness? She raised her arm and sniffed. Cologne and eucalyptus scented soap. From the shirt? Tonks put on her bra and tunic and then reached for the trousers.

There was no mirror in the pockets.

She shook her head. No, it wasn't true, she hadn't lost it. It was misplaced. All she needed to do was stay calm and look for it. She searched the bedside tables and then started in on the chest of drawers.

Jerry found her ripping sheets off the bed. "What are you doing?"

Tonks threw down a pillow and lifted the edge of the mattress. "I have to find my mirror!"

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her from upending the mattress. "It isn't under the bed. I put it on the top shelf of the wardrobe."

The black shirt he wore almost matched the circles beneath his eyes. His jaw was shadowed with stubble. Poor Jerry, he looked like she'd put him through hell—and that was before Tonks barged in on him in the shower. She'd have to make it up to him later, but for now relief outweighed guilt.

"Did it fall out of my pocket?" she asked, crossing to the wardrobe. "Tell me it didn't break."

Her hand was lifting, outstretched, when Jerry said, "Your communication mirror isn't broken."

She wrapped her fingers around the silver frame. "How did you know it's for communication? Did you talk to Remus?"

"Yes." Jerry used his wand to remake the bed.

Tonks stared at him in disbelief. Who cared if the room was tidy? "What are you  _doing_? Tell me when you talked to him, what you said, what he said!" She wanted to shake the words out of him. "Jerry, please."

"I talked to him around midnight," he said. "I told him what happened to you, that you were sleeping and the Healer would check on you in the morning."

"Did he say anything?"

"He said he'll be waiting."

_Waiting for me in Hogsmeade, I know it!_ Tonks wanted to leave right that second.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jerry asked.

She looked at him in confusion. "Tell you what?"

"That you're still with Lupin."

"I did," she said. "The day you arrived, I told you things with Remus were complicated. That's why I didn't want to talk about it." She gave a short laugh. "I still don't."

"Well, I do."

Merlin preserve her from well-meaning friends! Tonks took the easy way out an argument. She put it off. "Later, all right? I'm not up for it." She pressed a hand to her stomach. "Is there room service? Could I have some toast? Dry for all I care, I need something in me." She made a face. "One of the few things I remember is that I heaved my dinner."

"What about after that?"

"You picked me up and..."  _I'm not going to tell you my dreams about Remus._ "Everything's hazy."

"Are you sure?"

Tonks could feel a blush warm her face. Some things a girl didn't share with guy friends. "Mmhmm."

Jerry gave her a look that was hard to fathom. If he thought she was lying, at least he didn't call her on it. "All right," he said, "We'll talk another time. I'll go owl the Healer and order some tea and toast."

When he passed her, she caught the distinctive smell of soap. Tonks waited until the door shut to run to the bathroom. In the shower stall, on the built-in ledge for such things, was a bar of soap. She didn't have to pick it up to recognise the scent of eucalyptus. Her heart began to pound.

_I must have sweated so much I needed a shower. That's when I dreamed Remus washed my hair. It was me that did it—not Jerry—just me._

She used a spell to remove any trace of scent from her person and walked back to the bedroom to sit in a chair, the mirror clutched in her hand. "Remus," she said. The mirror became cloudy and then his face appeared. Tonks tried to smile. "I'll be there soon."

"I've been waiting for you."

Two hours later, Tonks slipped inside her room at the Hog's Head. She went straight into Remus's arms and buried her face against his chest. "I dreamt you were with me," she whispered. "I felt so bad and you made it better." She turned her face up. "Your warmth and strength is all I want—all I need." Her fingers tangled in his hair. Tonks raised her lips to his. "I love you so much."

He claimed her mouth with a hunger that took her breath away. This was what she needed, the heat that melted away all thought until there was only feeling. The friction of tongues and skin sent fire through her veins. Tonks burned to get closer, to possess and be possessed, and to hear Remus gasp the three words she'd clung to in her delirium.

_I love you._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who's read my stuff long enough knows that when it comes to outlines, my view is piratical: they're more like guidelines, really. I truly meant for this chapter to start in November and end in December, but, well, you can't hurry love or Christmas angst, it seems!


	23. Loss and Waiting

 

The November seventeenth edition of the  _Daily Prophet_ carried a small article about the arrests and subsequent confessions. Tonks was referred to only as "the latest victim." The Auror Office had decided the truth would be an embarrassment, and therefore allowed Magical Law Enforcement to take full credit in the public eye. The Office wasn't trying to sweep the matter entirely under the rug. Agents in Hogsmeade received private commendations—and a thinly veiled warning about discretion.

If Proudfoot and Savage were miffed that they couldn't brag about their roles in the apprehension of serial rapists, at least they didn't take it out on her. As for Dawlish, he seemed pleased to gain the approval of the Head of Aurors. Since her return to duty, he hadn't assigned Tonks to night patrol once.

She appreciated the improvement in working conditions. It was nice to be able to accept Fiona and Hamish's dinner invitations and spend time with friends. Remus had procured Wolfsbane Potion for Dix and Brenda, and they were taking it regularly. He was optimistic that once they experienced the difference the potion made during and after transformation, they would begin to think for themselves in regards to supporting Voldemort too.

On the surface, everything was going well. Dawlish approved her request to spend the night of the twenty-fifth away from the village without comment. Remus repeatedly told her how much he looked forward to being together.

Her only problem was Jerry.

Since the night he’d taken care of her, Jerry gave off vibes that were progressively harder to ignore. He brought her coffee in the mornings and made a habit out of walking her to her room at night. When they had dinner with Hamish and Fiona, he sat next to her at the table and on the sofa instead of playing games with the kids. Most troubling of all, sometimes he smiled at her in a way only two other men ever had: as if he was remembering what she looked like naked.

Tonks stepped back when Jerry got too close, set her alarm to rise earlier to get her own coffee, and went directly to her room when he would have lingered in the corridor. She did her best to pretend unawareness of the changes he tried to make in their relationship.

She didn't want things to change.

Jerry was the workmate who kept her company at meals and shared her patrols, the friend she had a beer with at the end of the day or won a pint from over a darts match. Because his friendship meant so much to her, Tonks kept quiet and hoped Jerry would snap out of whatever knight-rescuing-the-damsel-in-distress syndrome he'd fallen into. In her conversations with Remus, she acted as if everything was fine. Thankfully, he seemed to believe her.

If stress gave her headaches and made it hard to sleep, she dealt with it by looking at the bright side. She and the apothecary were now on a first name basis. Lachlan even gave her a discount. Tonks’s new habit of pacing was kept to her room and considered exercise.

 

The day of the full moon was chill grey and blowing rain. She and Jerry had breakfast and then began to patrol the village on foot. When they passed Macbeth's Multi-Sport, Hamish came to the doorway to greet them.

"Och, it's a bit blowy out."

Tonks squinted in the meagre light. Waterproof Charms kept their cloaks and clothing dry but didn't protect skin. The world looked like an Impressionist painting until she blinked raindrops out of her eyes. "I thought the forecast was  _drizzle."_

"Weatherwitch predicted 'a good drizzle.' A wee difference."

She threw out her arms. "This is not light rain."

"It is to a Scot." When she grimaced, Hamish laughed. "Come to dinner tonight. Fiona's making a Whisky Chocolate Pudding that'll take the chill out of English bones."

"Ace," Jerry said.

At the same time, Tonks said, "I can't."

Jerry moved in closer. "Why not?"

"I'm taking the night off—leaving the village."

"On a  _Monday?_ Is it someone's birthday?"

His proprietary attitude was wearing on her nerves. "No." She shot him a look that said, "Drop it."

After a moment of silence, Hamish said, "You're welcome on your own, Jerry. The lads will be happy to see you."

"Thanks."

Tonks said, "Tell Fiona I want the recipe for that pudding. I'm sorry I'll miss it." She waved goodbye and started walking.

Jerry caught up with her. "If you were really sorry, you'd stay."

_True._ She quickened her stride.

He kept pace. "Are you going to see Lupin?"

"Yes."

"On a full moon? Is he on Wolfsbane Potion?"

She scanned the street. Candles and illumination orbs brightened the windows of the rain-lashed cottages they passed. Even hardy Scots weren't braving the elements. Her lips twisted. Wasn't there a saying about mad dogs and Englishmen? It applied to more than the midday sun. "Yes. No. And it's my business, Jerry."

He took her arm. "I worry about you."

She glanced at the window of the nearest cottage. Had the lace curtain just twitched into place? Fabulous. No need to guess what the hot topic of conversation would be that night at the Broomsticks. She yanked her arm away. "You shouldn't. I'm going to support Remus, there's no danger."

Jerry's face was pale beneath the hood of his cloak. "He's a werewolf."

"Really? So  _that's_  why we never go dancing in the moonlight." She marched onward, wanting nothing more than to finish the patrol. Compared to their conversation, flying the perimeter of the forest in a downpour would be a joy. When Jerry tried to speak, she cut him off. "No. I don't want to hear it. There are safe rooms—spells—things I'm not about to explain. I appreciate your concern, but it isn't necessary, and it won't keep me from going to Salford."

He clenched his jaw and didn't speak another word. During the mid-morning staff meeting, Jerry sat in the chair furthest from hers, and at lunchtime, when the rain let up, he accompanied Savage to the Broomsticks.

Tonks ate a sandwich at the Hog's Head bar and almost fell off her stool when Dawlish joined her.

"The roast beef looks good," he said.

She swallowed the bite she was chewing. "Tastes good, too, and as a bonus the horseradish will clear your sinuses."

"A definite point in favour," Dawlish said, taking a bite of his own roast beef on crusty loaf.

Tonks drank a swallow of bottled lemonade. She was a little unnerved by her supervisor's presence. He wasn't the type to socialise, especially not with someone he didn't consider to be a team player. What did he want?

After he finished his sandwich, Dawlish said, "Proudfoot has bronchitis. He'll be in his room the rest of the day, casting steam spells."

"You want me to cover his patrol?" If she hauled broom, she could still make it to Remus's before the change. "Sure. I'll do it."

She hadn't counted on Mrs. Snap storming out of her dress shop to inform her the "sign-defacing hooligan" had struck again. Tonks glanced up. Sure enough, the former Gladrags sign now advertised  _Gladslags._ "Has your business suffered?" she asked while taking the witch's statement.

"No, but I have been subjected to impertinent levity."

Tonks offered her condolences, thinking the woman desperately needed any kind of humour she could get. She then advised Mrs. Snap to upgrade her security wards.

It was almost four o'clock by the time she handed Dawlish her report and was free to leave.

Jerry followed her to the Floo. "Sunset," he said. "You won't see Lupin tonight."

_Won't I?_ She went to the mantel and the box of Floo Powder. "I thought you weren't talking to me."

"I wasn't, but now I am."

His wry tone earned Jerry a half-smile. "Have fun with the Macbeths."

"I don't understand why you can't come with me," he said in a rush as she stepped into the fireplace. "You'll be in the house—alone—with an animal that won't even know you're there. Why not—"

"He'll know." Tonks named her destination and threw down the powder.

 

She exited the wizard pub in Salford and Apparated to the flat. In the glow of the illumination orb, misty rain looked like snowflakes. Tonks released the wards on the front door and rushed inside. She clattered up the stairs. After sunset, the safe room doors magically locked until morning—but only if a door was shut.

Remus had left his ajar.

"Thank you, baby," she whispered, closing the door behind her.

In a chalked circle, bound by enchantments and chain, her mate stood waiting. He growled.

She dropped to the floor and began to crawl forward on her belly, head lowered in submission. When Tonks heard a huffing sound, she looked up to meet amber eyes. The wolf chomped his teeth behind closed lips, the sound reminding her of a stick dragged along a fence. It was a greeting. She crossed the line of chalk and welcomed the rush of magic sweeping over her.

_Water pooled at the mouth of the cave. In the shadowy recesses, the alpha sniffed the air. He smelled only the rain—no danger. He turned his head in order to give his mate better access to his muzzle._

_She was affectionate as always, first grooming his fur and then licking the corners of his lips. She opened her mouth and closed her jaws over his before licking his face again. When she wriggled closer, murring, he gave a chuff and licked her mouth. After satisfying moments of play, he rested his head over her back, allowing the warmth of her body to soothe him to sleep_

Remus awoke with his cheek pressed against smooth skin. Nymphadora's shirt had ridden up sometime during the night. His muscles tensed. Had the wolf rested his muzzle on her? He sniffed. His stomach twisted. If the dream was based in reality— He sat up, pushing away the chains that had fallen to the floor.

"Good morning, love." Nymphadora shifted onto her back and stretched her arms over her head, arching her body like a cat.

He bent toward her mouth, breathing in his lover's scent and no other. He kissed her passionately and then allowed his body to sag in relief.

She rolled to the side, changing their positions. Her smile was wickedly sexy. "Anytime you want me on top, all you have to do is say so. No squashing necessary."

Remus felt a smile stretch his lips and didn't care if it was wolfish. "Anytime?"

Nymphadora laughed deep in her throat. "Anytime, anyplace, anywhere."

His hands rested on her hips and then stroked upwards. "Anyplace is the informal term for anywhere."

She leaned down to smile into his eyes. "Anyplace means on your body, and anywhere is this floor, your bed—wherever you like." Nymphadora's lips grazed his cheek and closed around his earlobe. "See the difference, professor?"

Remus sank his fingers into her hair and brought her mouth to his. "Show me." He caressed her body with his hands, kissing her hotly. Nymphadora squirmed closer. His need grew fierce. He whispered what he wanted to do to her.

The door cracked open. "Lillie's made breakfast." Will's voice was tired. He had neither Wolfsbane Potion nor a magical bond with his partner to lessen the drain of transformation.

Remus gritted his teeth and called, "We'll be downstairs in a few minutes."

After the door shut, Nymphadora made a sound between a moan and a giggle. "A few minutes?"

"A small yet indefinite number." He kissed the column of her throat and then gently sucked. "See the possibilities, love?"

Her response showed that she did.

 

When they finally made it downstairs, Will was stretched out on a futon while his girlfriend paced back and forth, ponytail swishing.

"There you are!" Lillie cried.

Will jerked awake so violently he fell off the sofa. "No need to shout," he said, rubbing his eyes. "If they're like me, they're not even hungry." He pushed to his feet and yawned. "I could do with a cup of tea, though."

Lillie's eyes were feverishly bright. "Remus isn't like you. He isn't knackered. And Nym—she isn't even a werewolf!"

"Are you taking the mickey?" Will asked. "It's too early for me to laugh at jokes."

"I'm not joking, it's true! After you went into the safe room, I took a shower. I was drying off when I heard someone running up the stairs." Lillie pointed to Nymphadora. "It was her. I peeked through a crack in the door and watched her go into his safe room." Her expression was triumphant. "It was  _after sunset!"_

Will shook his head. "The door would've been locked."

"Not if he left it open."

Nymphadora cut in, "Why does it matter?"

"Are you  _mental?"_ Lillie's laughter rang out, shrill and excited. "I want to be with Will the way you are with Remus. Whatever it takes, I'll do it. Teach me."

"I can't."

Lillie turned to Remus. "Then you do it. You're the professor. Teach me the spells."

"I can't, either. I'm sorry."

"Why can't you?" Will asked. "Lillie's smart. She earned top marks in Charms."

"It has nothing to with ability," Remus said. "I don't know the spells." He reached for Nymphadora's hand.

Her fingers clung tightly. "And I don't have the memory anymore. It's gone."

Lillie's expression hardened. "You selfish bitch."

Nymphadora said, "If I was selfish I would've used my knowledge to gain Remus favour with Dix. I didn't want to chance hurting Brenda, so I got rid of it—end of story."

"It's not the end!" Lillie shouted. "Where the bloody hell do you get off making that kind of decision? The spell didn't hurt you. Why would it hurt Brenda?" Her face contorted. "You don't care about anyone but yourself! As long as you get to cosy up to your partner, nothing else matters. I could bloody well  _Crucio_  you!"

Nymphadora took a step forward. "Calm down."

The girl had worked herself into hysterics. "I won't calm down! You don't how it hurts not to be with him. You don't know." Lillie sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," Nymphadora said softly.

Lillie's eyes were wild. "No, you're not, but you will be.  _Crucio!_ "

" _Protego!_ " Remus yelled. He wasn't fast enough.

Nymphadora screamed.

The curse knocked her to the ground, but instead of writhing in torment, she groaned, "Remus."

He helped her to her feet, casting every healing spell he could remember.

"I'm all right," Nymphadora said. She faced the girl who huddled in the circle of her boyfriend's arms. "Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, Lillie? You have to mean them to cause lasting pain. Righteous anger isn't Dark enough to hurt anyone for long."

"Merlin," Lillie whispered. "What have I done? I was out of my mind, I didn't mean it—I swear!" She looked up at Will and cried, "We have to run! They'll send me to Azkaban for life!"

Will's eyes flew to Remus. "Is that true?"

"She was beside herself with anger," Remus said. "Once we explain her state of mind the Ministry will surely concede there were mitigating circumstances."

Nymphadora laughed without humour. "They send people to Azkaban without trial. They hold hearings where the accused has no legal counsel. The system is inbuilt injustice."

She was thinking of Sirius and Remus couldn't disagree. Muggles had a rule against bias. Wizards did not. Scrimgeour, Chair of the Wizengamot, was prejudiced against werewolves. No doubt he would show bias against the lover of one. How could Lillie hope for a fair trial, much less clemency? Remus asked, "What can we do?"

"Make sure the Ministry never knows."

"But I cast a curse," Lillie said. "Aurors will trace the spell to this flat."

"Not necessarily. The Ministry doesn't have enough personnel to monitor every street in every town," Nymphadora said briskly. "Even if Salford's under heavy watch, the Aurors will only detect a surge of Dark magic. Since you didn't use a wand, Tracking Spells can only pinpoint the magic's area of origin—not the exact incantation or who cast it." She smiled thinly. "Fortunately for law enforcement, most wizards and witches need wands to focus their spells."

Remus asked, "What if they narrow the area enough to search house to house?"

"Then she's in trouble." Nymphadora faced Lillie and told her, "Dark magic is like blood. You can try to wash it off but traces remain. They'll detect it, arrest you, and interrogate until you break down and confess."

"How do you know all this?" Will asked.

"I know. Leave it at that," Nymphadora answered.

Lillie bit her lip. "What do I do?"

Remus exchanged a speaking look with his mate. "Go to Inverness and owl your mother that you decided to settle in early," he said. "I'll send Will's things and help Delia do the same with yours."

Lillie didn't move. She asked Nymphadora, "Why are you helping me?"

"Besides my rage against the system? I don't want trouble for the pack. An investigation could mean the end of Black Wolf Brewery." After a pause, Nymphadora said in a kinder tone, "And I don't agree with the Ministry's definition of unforgivable."

Lillie ran across the room to throw her arms around Nymphadora. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Please forgive me."

"I will if you promise to always use a jinx or a hex instead of curses."

"I promise."

Remus held out his hand. "You've been my finest student, William—and I've taught some of the best. Take care."

Will shook his hand. "I can never repay what you've done for me, but if there's ever anything..." His throat worked visibly as he swallowed.

Remus understood; his throat was tight as well. It was hard to lose a friend.

 

After the young couple left, Remus followed his love into the kitchen. It was a mess, with dirty utensils and crockery littering every surface except the table. Lillie did not adhere to the clean as you go style of cookery.

"Be a shame to waste food," Nymphadora said, removing the stasis cover from a platter of bacon.

Remus accepted a piece and took a bite. It was savoury and crisp. "Will must have grilled the bacon. Lillie's efforts are half burnt and half raw."

Nymphadora took the cover off a dish of runny scrambled eggs. "Is there such a thing as an anti-salmonella spell? Will's going to need one."

"Along with a repertoire of Cleaning Charms."

They traded smiles.

Just then, the wards on the front door chimed.

"Stay here," Remus said. "If it's an Auror, I don't want them to see you and ask questions."

"D'you mind if I finish off the bacon while I wait?" she said. "I'll take you out to breakfast afterwards."

He hadn't forgotten what it felt like to be young and hungry. "Go ahead."

She blew him a kiss that reminded Remus he still experienced many types of hunger. He smiled a little as he walked to the door.

Cleave stood on the front step. "Dix wants to see you." He jerked his head toward the Squire Cab idling at the kerb. "Now." Dark eyes flickered past Remus's shoulder. Cleave inhaled sharply and smirked as he said, "Alone."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Och, it's a bit blowy' line was taken from a GORP article about braving the Highlands in November. Research...it's a good thing. ;) Doctor Who fans might recognise "Mad dogs and Englishmen" as the title of a Doctor novel, but the expression "mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun" was taken from the 1931 song by Noel Coward.
> 
> If anyone's wondering if the Crucio scene was patterned on the one in OotP and if Tonks unknowingly mirrored her aunt's words to Harry when she spoke to Lillie—the answer is yes. :D Tonks is a Black, whether she appreciates her "Black streak" or not.


	24. Someone's Waiting for Me

 

 

Remus told Cleave, "I'll be outside in a few minutes," and promptly closed the door. If the cab's meter was running, so be it. Dix could well afford to pay.

He turned to find Nymphadora had walked into the lounge instead of remaining in the kitchen. That she'd eavesdropped wasn't a surprise. What he didn't expect was for her to throw herself into his arms and snog him breathless.

"I'll clean the mess while I wait," she said after they finally came up for air.

"I'm not sure when I'll be able to return." Remus kissed her one last time. "You're on afternoon patrol. You should go."

"I don't want to."

Nymphadora's sulky mouth was a temptation he had to resist. "I don't want you to leave, either, but if you're late for patrol, Dawlish might deny your next request to leave the village." Remus gave into the need to touch by rubbing his finger across her bottom lip. "If I have to come to you, though, I will."

"Promise?"

He saw the vulnerability beneath her smile. "I promise."

"OK." She took a bundled serviette out of her trouser pocket. "I saved you a rasher of bacon. Eat it in front of Cleave, and make him drool over the smell—the git." She stuck her tongue out at the door and presumably the man behind it while she fished a brushing/flossing mint from another pocket. "Here. For afters."

"Thank you."

Nymphadora's eyes had regained their usual cheeky glint. "My pleasure, and after I tidy the kitchen, I'll leave you something to remember me by."

"A limerick?"

She blew him a kiss. "Wait and see."

 

Remus left the flat with a smile on his face. After he climbed into the Squire Cab, he waited for the taxicab to hurtle into motion before he un-wrapped the serviette and took a bite of bacon.

"Brenda's making breakfast," Cleave said, in a so-you'd-better-not-say-you're-too-full-to-eat-it tone.

"Excellent. I'm still hungry."

"Can't get enough, is that it, Lupin?"

Remus declined to rise to the bait. He stared out the window and watched the blur of traffic until the cab screeched to a halt in front of a Salford Quays development overlooking the Erie Basin.

"Dix is on the top floor." Cleave pointed to one of the wrought-iron balconies that adorned the brick building.

"Naturally," Remus murmured. He exited the cab and followed in the other man's wake as he prowled his way into the building. An older couple sitting in the lobby shrank against each other when Cleave passed by. The tiny Yorkshire terrier lying across the woman's lap sprang to all fours and barked.

"Hush, Midge!" the witch cried shrilly.

Remus paused to extend his hand to the dog. The blue and tan face bent to sniff his fingers and then lick them.  _Smell the bacon, do you?_ "She's a brave guardian," he said. "Good day."

In the lift, Cleave said, "The Ministry used to send out general notices whenever a werewolf established residency in an area. Now Magical Law Enforcement goes door to door." He shot a contemptuous glance toward the wide-eyed couple and their dog. "Neighbours are prejudiced before you unpack a trunk."

"It's unfortunate," Remus said as the lift rose.

In the confined space, Cleave loomed aggressively. "It's anti-werewolf legislation."

"Yes."

"That doesn't make you angry?"

"Anger is negative. I'd rather channel my energy into something positive like establishing the brewery."

A soft chime announced the lift had reached the top floor. Cleave inhaled deeply—sniffing for lies. Remus waited patiently for him to finish.

"Is that you, dears? I just swirled toffee sauce over the apple pancakes, so do scurry!" Brenda's tone was that of a mother chiding her sons for playing in the lift.

Cleave turned on his heel at once.

Dressed in a tweed skirt and a canary yellow twinset that matched her hair colour, Brenda waved from an opened door in the marble-lined corridor. "Hullo! Sorry to break up your chat, but the recipe said to serve  _immediately."_ She led the way into a flat decorated in a sleek, minimalist style. "And I don't trust Tommy alone with the food. He's acted ravenous all mornin'." Brenda giggled.

At a round dining table situated in front of French doors that led to the balcony, Dix sat with a cup of tea in one hand and a piece of bacon in the other. "Took you two long enough. Sit down and let's eat."

"The pancakes look delicious," Remus said. "Is this whipped cream on top?"

His hostess seemed delighted he had asked, "No, it's Greek-style natural yoghurt, thick and creamy. Try a bite with the pancake." Brenda poured him a cup of tea and beamed when he said the pancakes were superb. "'Course toffee sauce will improve almost anythin'," she said, "but the yoghurt's lovely on its own or with fresh berries, or muesli."

Brenda knew dozens of uses for yoghurt and happily shared each one in detail while the men ate and made the occasional comment or sound of appreciation. Afterwards, Remus offered to help clear away the dishes.

"Cleave will help me," she said. "Tommy wants to show you the view."

Once Remus joined him on the small terrace surrounded by railings, Dix closed the French doors and cast a privacy charm. "I trust Cleave more than anyone except Brenda, but some things, he doesn't need to know." He stood at the front rail and stared out over the water.

Remus said, "The Wolfsbane Potion—"

"Was a success," Dix said, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "We retained control of our minds, and in the morning, we felt more—energetic—than we have in a long time." He pinned Remus with a steely blue gaze. "That's the good news."

A fission of unease travelled up Remus's spine.

"The bad news," Dix said, "is that the potion opened my eyes to what I should've figured out a long time ago."

Remus didn't ask what that was; he waited to be told.

Dix said, "At first it was so amazing, being a wolf yet thinking like a man. The ramifications didn't immediately sink in." His tone was reminiscent. "Brenda and I connected on a level . . .." He shook his head. "I can't describe it."

"There's no need," Remus said. "I understand." He wished he didn't, that he was unaware of the bond between his wolf and his mate—in both her forms.

"Of course you do. It's what you planned, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

“Don't feign ignorance, professor. You knew when I experienced the change I'd realise why the Ministry cancelled funding to provide Wolfsbane Potion, and why Greyback forbids werewolves to use it."

Remus tensed in anticipation. "Why?"

"Animals capable of reason might decide not to stay in their kennels on full moons. The Ministry obviously doesn't want that." Dix gave a short, hard laugh. "And neither does You Know Who. His promises—Greyback's promises—are lies."

"Not all of them," Remus said. "The opportunity for vengeance is truly offered."

"And what does that gain us?"

"Aside from the fear of wizards? Nothing."

Dix raked a hand through his hair. "Exactly. Used or feared, it doesn't change the werewolves' position at the bottom of the heap. The only difference is the leather of the heel pressed against our throats."

Light or Dark, to Dix the Ministry and Voldemort would seem two sides of the same coin of oppression. One offered the dole, and the other offered the blood of enemies, yet both planned to retain a chokehold. Remus supported the Light because it was the right thing to do. Dix, however, was more pragmatic. That was the true bad news: Remus's chance of swaying him to take a stand against Greyback appeared non-existent.

To confirm his doubts, Remus said, "You plan to keep this knowledge to yourself."

"I can't build a brewery if I'm dead." Dix smiled thinly. "Unless you think You Know Who would bring me back as an Inferi."

Remus looked toward the French doors. A dark shape stood on the other side, gazing out. "What about Cleave?" he asked.

"He thinks I'm reminding you of your wizard handshake, and that if Greyback finds out, punishment will go beyond the physical. You'll lose your status." Dix focused on the waterfront again. "As I said, there are some things he doesn't need to know."

"Why tell me?"

Dix shrugged. "Isn't that what a teacher wants, a student to demonstrate his understanding of the concepts taught?" He said, "There won't be overt application, professor, so if shared knowledge isn't enough . . .."

Remus took the warning. "It's enough."

 

He returned to his flat an hour later to find Delia Bowen on the doorstep. She wore a faded housedress and held a crumpled letter in her hand. Worry deepened the lines on her face.

"What's going on, Lupin?"

"We'll talk inside." He opened the door for Delia to enter and almost walked into her when she halted suddenly. He blinked in surprise. On the futon sofa Will had used for a bed was a gift basket of chocolate bars and truffles. Tied to the brown wicker handle were the ribbons of an enormous bouquet of balloons.

"I understand the pink and red 'I love you' hearts nonsense," Delia muttered, "But why the stars add a clown-nosed smiley face balloon with multicoloured hair?"

"To make me smile." Beyond the lounge space, Remus spied rose petals on the carpet and the stairs. If Delia asked the meaning of those, he would pretend not to hear.

Her eyes flickered toward the trail of petals and veered away. "All right, Lupin, we're inside. I want the truth, so don't try to pull the wool over my eyes. I don't believe my girl moved to Inverness on a whim without packing a single bag and if you say she did—"

"She didn't." Remus took a bar of chocolate from the basket and handed it to Delia. "Have a seat and I'll tell you what happened."

She tore the wrapper and bit off a hunk of chocolate before plopping down onto the sofa. By the time he finished sharing a condensed version of earlier events, she had finished the entire bar. "Merlin," she whispered. "I need a drink."

Remus fetched a couple of Butterbeers from the coolant cabinet.

"I meant alcohol." Delia made a face and took a long swig. "I can't believe she did that—forgave Lillie. Who does that?"

"Nym did."

"And she wanted to make  _you_  smile? Merlin!" Delia drank another swallow of Butterbeer. "Who the hell is this woman—former Miss Hufflepuff?"

Remus guiltily enjoyed the mental image of Nymphadora in a black bikini with a yellow Miss Hufflepuff sash across her torso. "She is just and loyal," he said.

"Young and pretty too." Delia set her crumpled wrapper and bottle on a side table and shifted to face Remus. "If Cleave moves in, I wouldn't encourage her to visit anymore. Kemp's overheard him talking a couple of times. Cleave would like a chance to get your mate alone."

"Why would he move in?" Remus looked around. Tidiness was the only thing the flat had going for it.

"He's tired of living with Travis and Haas. They're pigs, according to Kemp, and Will bragged to anyone who listened that you're better than a cleaning witch when it comes to household charms."

_Cleave, on the sofa, eyes glued to the ceiling, fantasising that he was the one upstairs in bed with Nymphadora._  Remus's stomach twisted at the thought. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear a wolf growl. "No," he said. "I won't allow him anywhere near her."

"Look," Delia said. "If it happens, if he moves in, my sofa's available if you want it."

Remus didn't. Bad as it might be, he would prefer Cleave as a flatmate. Such an admission, however, would be less than kind. "Thank you for the offer."

"Right. Well, I have Lillie's things to pack."

"If you need assistance—"

"Kemp will help." Delia set her empty bottle and chocolate wrapper on a side table. "When you talk to Nym," she said gruffly, "Tell her she has my deepest gratitude."

Remus said he would and when Delia left, he followed the trail of petals upstairs to the bedroom. On his pillow lay a single red rose tied to a scroll of parchment. He untied the ribbon.

**Muggle supermarkets are open early and have florists to create any basket you like, but none of their cards expressed my feelings half as well as a poem I once wrote on the back of a pub serviette. I still remember every line, and mean them more every day.**

The serviette mentioned was pressed between the pages of a journal currently stored in Nymphadora's trunk for safekeeping. Remus remembered a May night and an adorably tipsy serenade as he read:

_I love the way you say my name,_

_and how you hold me tight,_

_I love the way you're in my thoughts,_

_and in my dreams at night._

_I love the way you smile at me._

_I really love your hair._

_I love the way you are with kids,_

_the way you teach and care._

_I love the way you hold my hand,_

_your tender, gentle touch._

_I love everything about you._

_I love you so damn much!_

At the end of her recitation, Nymphadora had thrown out her arms and toppled back to land on her heart-shaped derriere. Remus chuckled over how he'd run down the steps to make sure she was all right, and the combination of tenderness and lust she'd inspired with her teary vow that he made her "so happy," and the tantalising glimpse of panties beneath a miniskirt hiked up by bare, sprawled legs.

Remus took out his Melusine Mirror and called, "Nymphadora."

Her face instantly appeared. She said, "You know, I have this vague suspicion you found what I left for you to remember me by."

"I have more than a vague suspicion I'm madly in love with you," he said. "I know it without a doubt."

Nymphadora's smile was misty. "You make me so happy."

He repeated the words that were true the first time he'd said them, and would remain true, come what may. "You make me happy, too."

 

Over the next few days, he packed various household items a young couple would need into Will's trunk and used a shrinking spell to fit one of the futons and a side table into another box. Delia stopped by to inform Remus that the elves who were coming for Lillie's things would stop by his flat for Will's owl and belongings before heading to Inverness. She refused to allow him to help pay.

"It's the least I can do," she said.

The lounge, half-emptied of furniture, looked shabby. The flat was oppressively quiet without Will's boisterous presence, which added to the general air of dreariness. Since Cleave hadn't shown up, bag in hand, Remus became cautiously optimistic. He decided to paint. He went to the nearest store and chose a flat, water-borne emulsion out of the discounted returns bin. The colour was "toast," which he thought would appeal to Nymphadora more than a tin of beige.

Apprised of the colour, his love said as long as it wasn't  _burnt_ toast, she was sure it would be a vast improvement on the room's current, grubby white. She proclaimed her eagerness to wield a paintbrush and put in a request to spend the first Saturday of December away from the village.

Remus cleaned the walls, covered the furniture, and taped off the woodwork in preparation. On Saturday, he awoke early and went to the shops for pastries and a small posy of winter flowers. On the way home, he felt the mirror warm.

"Nymphadora?" he called, as soon as he reached the privacy of his flat.

The face that appeared in the mirror was angry and miserable. "Dawlish revoked my leave," she said. "I just left his office. This morning he received an anonymous tip that werewolves are roaming the Forbidden Forest, so  _in the interest of public safety, patrols are hereby doubled and all leave is prohibited until further notice._ " Her mimicry of Dawlish was viciously precise.

She was so upset, he had to ask, "Do you believe he fabricated the message?"

"No, but the timing—" Nymphadora pressed her lips together.

"You believe someone else did?"

"I don't want to."

Remus didn't press any further. Whether she admitted it or not, Nymphadora suspected Jerry of sending the "tip" to keep her in Hogsmeade—away from her lover.

He said, "When are you scheduled to patrol?"

"Right now, and again at three o'clock." She looked at him hopefully. "Are you going to come see me? If you do I'll give you a massage to loosen up those muscles after you paint."

"I'll try my best."

Nymphadora winked. "Then I'll stop by the apothecary and pick up massage oil. Got to go, love you, bye."

Remus's gaze shifted from his reflection in the mirror to the blue anemones he'd bought to make her smile. He'd put them in water and bring them to Hogsmeade when he visited.

Four hours later, paint spatters covered his old tee and denims and the walls of the lounge were warm beige. The room was still Spartan, but it wasn't dingy anymore. Remus used a spell to move the furniture back into place and several more to cleanse the painting equipment. The next time he got the urge to renovate, all he'd need to purchase was emulsion.

He was about to go upstairs to shower and charm-clean his clothes when he heard a chime. Remus expected to find Delia on the doorstep. She missed her daughter and dropped by every day to see if Will had owled.

His visitor was Cleave. Over the man's brawny shoulder, Remus saw Travis and Haas. Clad in leather and denim, the unshaven, straggly-haired duo carried a large trunk between them. They looked like grungy human bookends.

_This is what Sirius called the first corollary to Sod's Law: whatever can go wrong will do so at the worst possible moment._

Remus stepped back to allow the men to enter.

"Will didn't lie, the place is clean." Cleave sniffed the air. "Fresh paint. Nice." He pointed to the empty space formerly occupied by a second futon. "Place my trunk against that wall."

He told Remus, "There's plenty of room for me to lift weights down here, so I won't make you give up the bedroom."

He could have. It was within Cleave's rights as Beta. Remus inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"I need a drink," Haas said, yawning. He wandered into the kitchen and returned with a bottle. "All you got is Butterbeer?"

"I'll take it," Travis said. "I'm thirsty." He plucked the bottle out of Haas' hand and offered it to Cleave. "Unless you want it?"

Haas snatched it back. "If he wants Butterbeer, I'll pour it into a glass. I found some clean ones in a cupboard."

"What'd you expect to find—dirty dishes?" Travis gave Haas a shove.

Cleave jerked his head toward the door. "Leave."

Travis asked, "Can I have a Butterbeer, first?"

Remus used an  _Accio_  to retrieve a bottle from the kitchen.

"Thanks, old man," Travis said. "See you, Cleave."

Haas waved his bottle. "I could still pour—no? Fine. Later." He slunk outside.

 

The two that remained regarded each other in silence. After a couple of minutes Cleave asked, "Are you always this talkative?"

Remus curved his lips to show he understood the joke. "Yes."

Cleave padded over to the trunk and opened the lid. He brought out a small cube that transformed into a black leather club chair. "Good." He took a newspaper out next and closed the trunk before settling into the chair. "We should get along, then. I value peace and quiet."

"As do I." Remus walked upstairs, heavy hearted. Cleave was not Will. He wasn't a friend; he was a potential threat. Remus couldn't invite Nymphadora to stay with him anymore. He would have to visit her.

When he came out of the bathroom after he’d showered and dressed, Remus discovered his new flatmate in the corridor, staring into the bedroom. "Pretty balloons," Cleave said. "Are you expecting Nym to visit?"

Remus stiffened. He had forgotten to ward his door shut—a mistake he wouldn't make again. "She's working. I hoped to visit her."

"Not anytime soon," Cleave said. "You're going to Inverness, first thing tomorrow."

"Why?" Remus had dark memories of Inverness. He had no wish to return.

Cleave said, "Dix named you Delta, but Greyback has the final say. If he denies approval..." His smile was wolfish.

"He isn't there," Remus said. "Shouldn't I go—"

"You'll go wherever Greyback tells you to," Cleave cut in, "and wait until he arrives. He has more important matters to attend than testing your worthiness."

_Threatening wizards, attacking innocent children._

"Were you tested?" Remus asked, out of a need to say something, anything, to keep the past at bay.

Cleave slowly shook his head. "My worth has never been questioned."

Remus's had, many times. That sort of questioning, unpleasant as it was, he didn't dread half as much as the questions he anticipated from Nymphadora.

 

 

Tonks was speechless. Here she was, un-dressed up and ready to give a sensual massage, and Remus couldn't visit. On top of that, he was being sent to Inverness, to a pack that lived down to the Ministry's view of them as animals. He didn't even know when he would return.

She felt hot tears prick the back of her eyes. Wasn't this supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year? It was setting up to be the  _unhappiest_ season of all, in her opinion.

_Bah bloody humbug! Why doesn't somebody give the world a Christmas present and bury Greyback with a stake of holly through his heart?_

She was so lost in vengeful thoughts, it took a moment to realise Remus was calling her name in a tender, are-you-all-right tone of voice. Tonks fought to keep a tight rein on her emotions. "Will you be able to use your mirror?"

"If not every night, as often as I can."

Tonks tried to nod and couldn't do it. "Don't go," she whispered.

"I have to. It's my duty, my mission." His expression was regretful yet determined.

She wanted to curse and scream, cry and beg—do something, anything, to change his mind and keep him from going. He expected her to; she could see it in his eyes. Remus was braced to handle arguments and pleas.

Tonks forced herself to say, "All right, stay safe. I love you."

"I love you. Hopefully I won't be gone long."

"Bring food," she said, in an attempt to be practical instead of emotional. "Dix can afford a goodwill gesture."

"The Inverness pack takes pride in self-sufficiency."

_Meaning they'd rather steal and kill than take a handout._ She tried not to think about what kind of living conditions Remus would face. "Then take chocolate and energy bars for yourself and share whenever you get the chance."

Remus's lips curved slightly. "I will."

Tonks didn't break down when they said goodbye and didn't cry once the mirror returned to a normal reflective state. She felt almost numb. She stared at the walls until they seemed to close in around her and then pulled on a tee and tracksuit over her frilly bits and laced up her trainers.

She left the Hog's Head and began to jog.

"Tonks!"

She turned. "Hey, Jerry."

He looked like an oversized Christmas elf in his green jumper and knit cap. Jerry's smile added to his jolly appearance. It stretched from ear-to-ear. "You're feeling better, coming to Fiona and Hamish's for dinner after all?"

"No." She'd forgotten about running into the couple during afternoon patrol and her excuse for declining the invitation. _Shit._ Tonks said, "I'm going on a run and then I'm in for the night."  _And I'll get some sleep if I have to use a Morpheus Charm._

Jerry was giving her an I'm-worried-about-you look. "It's still a little early. We could take a walk and then go on to dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she said, "and I don't want to walk. I need to run."

"What are you running from?"

"Nothing," she said, "I'll talk to you at breakfast, OK?"

Jerry moved in front of her. "Talk to me now. Let me help."

"You can't." She Apparated to a spot on the path to Hogwarts and took off running. It was a release to focus on the moment, to concentrate on her pace and breathing.

Once she reached the gates, Tonks picked up a stick off the ground to rattle across the iron bars. The sight of it in her hand gave her a better idea. Why use a stick when she could strike the bars with werewolf claws and really make some noise? She concentrated on the spell.  _Unguis._

Her fingernails lengthened and curved into deadly talons. "If I could morph, I'd make you pink," Tonks said, "but if you can't be girly, at least you'll be loud." She steadied the gate with her left hand and swiped at the bars with her right. A gasp tore from her throat when her claws slid along the iron as though it was greased, and instead of raking horizontally slashed down, across her wrist—tearing through cloth and skin.

Tonks pressed her arm to her chest, trembling with shock. Blood was seeping through her tracksuit. She Apparated.

Fiona went pale when she answered the door. "Merlin, you're bleeding!"

"I need a Healer," Tonks said. "I hurt myself." She swayed on her feet and then pitched forward, into darkness.

 

She awoke in an unfamiliar room but the man sleeping next to her was no stranger. Tonks sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and frowned. The tee she was wearing belonged to a shorter woman. It didn't cover her racy knickers. She pulled the sheet across her lap. "Jerry," she said. "Wake up." Tonks ran her fingers over the bandages on her arm. What had happened?

"You're awake. That's good. Madam Pomfrey said you lost a lot of blood, but didn't damage the tendons or the nerves." Jerry's voice was raspy. "She said you should be watched overnight, so Hamish and Fiona offered us their guest room."

"Pomfrey? I came here instead of the castle to avoid that witch," Tonks said fretfully. "Doesn't the village have a Healer?"

"Healer Tennant and his wife Catherine are on holiday."

"Just my luck."

Jerry clambered over the mattress to sit beside her. "It wasn't luck," he said. "It was a cry for help."

Her jaw dropped. "It was an accident."

"You nearly split the vein beyond repair. I could've lost you." Jerry took her hand in his. "He's not worth it."

"It had nothing to do with Remus," she said firmly. "I was clumsy, not suicidal." She tried to pull her fingers out of his clasp. "Let me go."

"I can't," Jerry said. "I love you."

 

 

 


	25. Waiting in Vain

 

 

Tonks stared down at their entwined fingers.  _Oh, gods, this is not happening. I won't let it happen._  She tried to stay calm. "It really was an accident," she said. "I'm sorry I scared everyone. I'll apologise to the Macbeths as soon as I get dressed." She looked around the room for her tracksuit. Had Fiona taken it to mend and clean?

"Didn't you hear me?"

_I'm not deaf, you idiot, of course I bloody well heard you!_

She resisted the impulse to yell and squeezed Jerry's fingers gently. When his grip relaxed, Tonks drew her hand away and crossed her arms. "You're one of my best mates," she said. "You mean a lot to me too."  _So don't eff-up our friendship, please, please, PLEASE!_

"Look at me."

Uh-uh. No way. If he gave her puppy-dog eyes, she'd hex him or cry. "Where are my trousers?"

Jerry knelt on the floor. "Look at me."

She buried her face in her hands. Why couldn't he take the hint? Why was he bollixing everything up? Tonks froze when she felt lips press against the back of her right hand, and then her left.

"I love you," Jerry said. "I want to make you happy. I want your hair to turn pink." He paused, and then whispered, "Most of all, I want to hear you say you love me the way you did at the inn, right before we kissed."

"I can't." She lowered her hands. "Whatever I said that night—whatever I did—was because I thought you were Remus."

"No. You knew it was me, you said I always take care of you."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"You're a Hufflepuff, loyal to the core, but if you'd open your eyes—"

"You're the one who's blind!" The frustration she'd repressed for weeks burst free. Tonks pushed the sheet off her lap, rolled to the other side of the mattress and stood. She wanted to make a point, but not without the bed between them. "Now it's your turn to look—c'mon, you've seen me naked, don't be a prude—and listen. I didn't wear these panties for you, mate. I wore them for Remus. Something came up, he couldn't visit, and I went for a run and learned the hard way not to play with sharp objects. Understand?"

"I understand Lupin's wrong for you." Jerry got to his feet. "He's too—"

"Old, poor, and dangerous? Don't give me that prejudiced bullshit! Remus is my mate, my life partner, the only man I have ever—or will ever—love with all my soul."

Jerry flinched. After a moment, he said, "Maybe you just think that."

"I know it," she shot back, "but you don't want to believe it. You're such a wizard scout you think I need saving when I don't. Tell the truth," she said quickly, when he started to speak. "It was only when I started leaning on you to cheer me up that everything changed, wasn't it?"

"No. My life changed two years ago, during the first case we worked together."

_Two years ago? If that's true, his psycho ex-girlfriends weren't as paranoid as I thought for accusing us of being more than partners and friends._ She remembered that first day. "I punched you in the arm."

"Because I told you it wasn't just your metamorphosing that makes you sexy."

Tonks lifted her fists like a Muggle boxer. "I'm willing to have another go at knocking sense into you."

Jerry smiled faintly. "Too late for that."

Tears stung her eyes again. She grabbed the duvet from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around herself like a sarong.

"You don't have to cover up."

"Yes, I do." A shirt that barely covered her midriff and a scrap of lace were not convince-a-mate-he-doesn't-really-fancy-you attire. She sat on the edge of the mattress. "We need to talk."

Jerry continued to stand. "Will you give me a chance to be more than a friend?" His smile twisted downward. "If you won't, there's nothing to talk about."

"Sure there is. Auror partners deal with this sh—stuff all the time. It's proximity. If you work every day with somebody and they're attractive, you notice. It doesn't have to affect the relationship."

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Of course I do. You're nice to look at  _and_  a nice guy. I lucked out."

"Are you attracted to me?"

He was giving her puppy-dog eyes: vulnerable and hopeful. Her vision blurred. Tonks pressed her lips together and shook her head. She wanted to hug him, not kiss him.

"If that's how you feel . . .." Jerry walked towards the door.

She jumped up to block his way. "Where are you going? Back to the Hog's Head? I'll get dressed and come with you."

"Pomfrey said for you to go to the Hospital Wing when you awoke. She needs to follow up, make sure you're healing properly."

Jerry wasn't meeting her eyes. Tonks started to panic. "I don't want her poking and frowning at me. I'm fine. See?" She tugged at the bandages on her arm. They wouldn't budge. "What did the old harpy do, put a spell on them?"

"Yes. I'll tell Dawlish where you are."

Tonks lifted her arm. "Does he know about...?"

"I sent a Patronus last night to inform him of the accident."

Jerry still wasn't looking at her. Her stomach knotted with tension. "Tell him it won't affect his precious duty schedule. We'll patrol this afternoon."

"I won't. I'm going to take Dawlish up on his offer of a transfer back to London. Effective immediately."

"Don't," she said. "Don't do it. Don't leave me."

He lifted wet eyes. "The last time you said that, I thought it meant you cared about me more than you realised, and if I just waited you’d see it." Jerry brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "But there's no use waiting anymore."

"I won't let you go." Fat teardrops splashed her cheek. "I won't lose another friend."

Jerry's face crumpled. "You aren't losing me. I just—can't—see you every day. It hurts too much."

She broke down. "Oh, gods." Tonks threw her arms around Jerry and hugged him with all her strength. Sadness clogged her throat and thickened her voice. "I'm so very, very sorry."

He held her close and then lowered his arms. "Me too."

When he stepped away from her, Tonks let her friend go, but couldn't stop herself from calling after him, "If I send you a Christmas card, will your mum burn it?"

Jerry paused, but didn't turn around. "Better make it flame-proof, just in case."

"I will. Bye, Jerry."

"Goodbye, Tonks."

 

Fiona brought in the cleaned tracksuit right after Jerry left. The only question she asked was if Tonks would like coffee or breakfast.

"No, I've got to check in with Madam Pomfrey. Thanks for everything. "

"We were glad to help. Hamish took the children to visit his mother, but I'll tell him how well you've recovered when he gets back."

Did he whisk the kids away last night when she showed up bleeding, or later, when Pomfrey called her injury a "cry for help" and her mental health was in doubt? Tonks didn't ask. She tried to smile. "Tell him I'll use a stick, not claws, to rattle the castle gates from now on."

"That's good. I’m here If you ever want to talk."

Meaning Fiona thought she'd made up the story and might have another self-injury episode. Fabulous. "Ta, thanks," Tonks said briskly. She placed her clothes on the bed and picked up the trousers.

Unlike Jerry earlier, Fiona took the hint. She left.

 

When Tonks exited the cottage, she Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and nudged them open with her foot. The thought of touching the bars with bare hands made her skin crawl. Once she reached the castle, she used a Disillusionment Charm to avoid the students on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast and headed to the dungeon level instead of the Hospital Wing.

She became visible and knocked on the door of Snape's private quarters. "It's me. Open up."

It was a surprise that he didn't force her to wait in the corridor. The door opened at once. Snape regarded her with an uplifted brow. "Are you here to verbaliseyour cry for help?" he asked in a tone that could curdle milk.

A filthy word slipped out of her mouth. "Pomfrey told you I tried to kill myself?"

"She termed it a suicidal gesture, a lethal action with non-lethal intent."

"I have another term for what happened. An accident."

Snape looked into her eyes.

Memory surfaced in a flash of images.  _She dropped the stick...watched fingertips become claws...gripped the iron bars with her left hand and slashed with her right...blood pooled and dripped._

Tonks broke his gaze. "That's enough!" What had happened afterwards was none of his business. "Why did she tell you, anyway? I thought Healers and mediwitches were bound by confidentiality."

"She thought you  _wanted_  me to know."

"Why would—" Tonks broke off with a short laugh. "I don't come for lessons anymore so she thinks you dumped me, and I slit my wrist to get attention?"

Snape curled his lip.

Tonks said, "That makes me want to avoid the witch more than ever." She pulled up her jacket sleeve. "I can't take these off. Please say you can."

"I can."

"Will you? I said please."

Snape's expression was sour as he waved his wand.

The bandages fell away to reveal thin, silvery scars.

 

 

The area where the pack resided was among the oldest in Inverness. It was notorious for poverty and crime. Remus kept a tight grip on the handle of the deceptively small Capacious Bag as he entered the rundown industrial estate housing Skoll's lair. He remained on guard, although he saw only derelict warehouses that matched the cold, grey sky in bleakness.

"Are you Lupin?" A teenager had stepped out of an alley after he'd passed. The boy was dressed in black, with backcombed blue hair that made him look younger instead of older, the way he'd probably intended.

"Aren't you underage?" Remus asked. The boy held a green bottle of Buckfast Tonic Wine in his hand.

"So?"

" _Three small glasses a day, for good health and lively blood,"_ Remus quoted softly, wondering if the boy had ever read the label's notice that the wine provided none of the benefits it once claimed. Likely not. The "tonic" was cheap, sweet, and had a high alcohol content: qualities that appealed to the underaged and antisocial. He extended his hand. "Yes, I'm Remus Lupin."

"Donnie Spence." The boy's dead fish handshake revealed his lack of self-confidence.

"A pleasure to meet you, Donnie."

"Uh huh, let's go." He led the way toward a building that had upper windows intact while the ground floor panes were boarded over.

"The lower level is the safe room?" Remus asked.

Donnie nodded. "We sleep upstairs." He knocked on one of the covered windows. It magically slid to the side to reveal a door. "Go in."

 

Each face that turned when Remus entered was sharpened by mistrust and deprivation. That was expected. Their lives were hard and he'd lived among wizards. The surprise was that the pack members who lounged on tatted sofas and chairs that looked taken from skips or charity shops were young. None appeared older than twenty.

_This could have been my life. Bitten by Greyback, taken from my family, raised to steal and kill and hate._

A dark-haired young man nudged a girl off his lap to unwind from a chair. "Skoll's waiting. Follow me." He sauntered toward the metal stairway in the back corner of the warehouse.

Remus was reminded of another shaggy-haired lad. "Do you know Will Hughes?"

"He was my flatmate in Salford."

"You're Frank."

"That's right. Will's told me about you, too, Lupin." Halfway up the stairs, he paused to look over his shoulder. "Haven't heard from him in a while. Any reason why?"

"Lillie keeps him busy," Remus said easily. It was the truth.

"I remember. I was always kicking those two out of my room." Frank resumed the climb. "Not that I blamed them. That was a great bed."

"Yes." Remus thought of Nymphadora crawling across the mattress and prudently changed the subject. "Should I store my gear somewhere before meeting with Skoll?" They had reached the upper floor, an open, loft-like space. Scattered amid half dozen camping tents were sleeping bags piled with rucksacks and holdalls. Unless a pack member obtained a tent, there was no privacy or security. It wasn't sleeping in the rough—there was shelter from the elements and what looked to be toilet and shower facilities behind partitions on each side—but council housing was luxurious by comparison.

"He said you were to go right in." Frank pointed to the largest tent.

Remus could tell it was wizard-made. Unlike the other tents, Skoll's was made of black canvas, not Muggle fabric, and the "vestibule" flap unzipped itself as he approached. Inside, the living space resembled the lounge of a flat, with pen and ink drawings of wolves hung on canvas walls and two beige leather chairs flanked by matching leather sofas.

"Have a seat, Lupin," growled a voice from a back room.

"I'm admiring your artwork," Remus said, as he took a step closer to the drawing of a wolf chasing the sun hung behind the sofa. "I almost hear the jaws snap. It's a vivid image."

"It's Skoll, chasing Sol across the sky." The man who entered wasn't as lean and hungry-looking as his namesake. His long blond hair and brawny physique brought to mind the Norse god Thor. "Soon, he'll devour her and plunge the world into darkness."

Remus asked mildly, as if out of intellectual curiosity, "Do you think Ragnarok is here?"

"The doom of those who hold themselves as gods is certain," Skoll replied. "The final battle is coming. Fenrir has burst free. Giants and the inhabitants of hell will rise to scorch the earth. Old ways will perish, and a new world will arise." His smile revealed the inner wolf. "For wizards, this is the beginning of the end."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironic, Muggle-loathing werewolves using Norse mythology to screw their courage to the sticking point, as Lady Macbeth would say. The last chapter of Moonlight and Shadow was when Tonks told Jerry, "Don't leave me." Sirius had gone through the veil, and she was afraid she'd lose everyone else she loved until she had a talk with Healer Wells. For a walk down memory lane, Jerry's psycho ex-girlfriends Tonks refers to are Anne (she had her Mrs. C orchestrated meltdown in ch 6 of Promise of a Spring Moon) and Meg (the Muggle who didn't believe in magic in ch 14 of Moonlight and Shadow).
> 
> Every time I reread the Christmas chapter of HBP, I had a hard time with Remus's description of the werewolves. Why was the situation so grim when they could use magic to get what they needed? They might steal, but they wouldn't have to kill to eat, unless...the pack he referred to was the one made up of children Greyback had raised "to hate normal wizards," yet hadn't bothered to teach magic, so they lived by their wits just like Muggles.
> 
> In my usual reluctance to write off the top of my head, heh, I scanned loads of Inverness Courier articles on deprived areas, underage drinking, crime, and even camping equipment. To balance the serious stuff, I perused the Inverness page found at uncyclopedia ("the content free encyclopedia"). From that article, I'll confess my fave export is "Depression in a jar" and there's a list of twenty "strange but true" facts by Madscotsman that's mad craic for your brain, at least. I almost want to go to the seedy side of Inverness (where the pack resides) now, so I can experience the Ferry Time Warp Syndrome, in which you get the craic for a few days, stagger back to civilisation, only to spend your last 20p on a paper and learn that what seemed like two days of hazy memories has actually taken up three weeks of your life. (Yes, the long sentence is a moshed quote. :D)


	26. The Waiting Time

 

 

 

The light of fanaticism blazed in Skoll's eyes. Remus knew better than to challenge his belief in the end of old ways. Skoll would blindly follow Greyback to the death and kill any werewolf disloyal to the faith in a new world under Voldemort. All Remus could think to say was, "Seneca believed every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

" _Seneca_."

The flat, never-heard-of-him tone was one remembered well from teaching days. Remus said, "He was a Roman philosopher, who also said sometimes even to live is an act of courage."

"Huh. Is this why Dix made you third in the pack? He wanted someone who never speaks for himself?"

Remus said, "You'll have to ask him."

"I already have. He said you're smart." Skoll eyed Remus disparagingly. "All that wizard education hasn't done you much good, though, has it?"

Not to someone who judged by appearance. Remus valued his years at Hogwarts—his friendships—as priceless, and refused to justify them to anyone. He waited in silence to hear when Greyback would arrive.

Skoll crossed his arms, waiting, apparently, for Remus to ask.

Before he could do so, a girl said from the back of the tent, "I'm hungry. Is breakfast here?"

"Soon," Skoll called back. He lowered his voice. "You'll see to it, won't you, Lupin? Fenrir said for you to make yourself at home. Start by making breakfast."

"Very well. Where should I place my bag?"

"Leave it here for now."

To be searched. Remus had expected that and packed accordingly. He set the small carpetbag on the floor beside a chair, removed his patched brown coat and placed it atop the bag. "The kitchen is downstairs?"

"Such as it is."

Remus nodded and left. He found Donnie Spence loitering outside the tent. "Are you my escort or bodyguard?" he asked the boy.

Donnie ran a hand over his blue hair. "I'm—uh—s'pposed to keep an eye on you."

"Then you can escort me to the kitchen while you do it."

Donnie bounded toward the stairs.

Remus trailed after him at a more sedate pace.

In the lounge area of the warehouse, Frank had resumed his embrace of the girl draped once more across his lap. The others gazed at Remus with the intensity of wolves assessing a newcomer to their territory.

"Good morning," he said, as though the pack members were a classroom of students. Most were young enough to attend Hogwarts. "Has anyone had breakfast?"

No one answered.

The stoic faces triggered a memory.

_It was his first morning in Inverness. The pack wasn't large, only ten members who chose to live in the woods over "contamination" by Muggles and wizards. Remus exited the tent he'd been assigned to share with two other men and went to stand by the fire. The woman called Gran by the pack handed him a tin cup that smelled of dandelion tea._

_"Thank you," he said. "Have you had breakfast?"_

_She shook her head. "All the pack eats or no one does."_

_He finished the tea and handed her the cup. "I'd best get to foraging, then."_

Remus felt the same regretful sadness he had years ago. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

The watchful faces remained impassive.

Donnie cleared his throat. "This way."

Tucked into the corner near the entrance, a set of industrial cupboards, wire shelving, and a pine-topped steel worktable comprised the kitchen. A portable mini oven with hot plates stood on the table. The appliance was enchanted, Remus presumed, since there was no electricity.

"Where do you do the washing up?" Remus asked. The work surface was clean, the dishes and cookware tidily arranged, yet there was no sink.

"Upstairs gots the only plumbing."

It was an improvement over hauling water from the river. Remus opened one of the tall, locker-like cupboard doors. The shelves were almost completely bare.

"Malcolm and Ewan are out...erm...gettin' groceries."

Out stealing was more likely. "In my day we called it foraging." Remus removed the lone tin of baked beans and a plastic bag that contained half a loaf of thick sliced bread. "Is there a coolant cabinet?" he asked.

"Nothin' in it."

"We'll make do." Remus placed the food and a bowl on the table and set an enormous skillet and pot onto the hot plate burners. He looked at Donnie. "Do I knock on the wall for the door to open from inside?"

"Yeah."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw a few of the pack rise to their feet. Did they think he was going to run? He opened the door. " _Accio_ fresh egg!"

Donnie's eyes bugged out. "What the—"

"Eggs lose quality as they age," Remus said, smiling faintly. He used a spell to slow the egg that zoomed into the warehouse and plucked it out of the air. By the time he'd cracked it into the bowl, most of the pack had formed a circle around the table.

Remus looked across the table at a girl who had henna-dyed hair and multiple earrings in each ear. "Why stop at one egg?" he asked. "Why not Summondozens?"

She hunched a shoulder. "Dunno."

"Because one egg isn't noticeable, whereas dozens . . .." Remus smiled. "Things could get messy."

A few boys sniggered, imagining the unintended eggings, no doubt. Remus was more concerned with avoiding reports of theft.

Donnie said, "One egg won't feed the pack."

"Won't it?" Remus concentrated on the egg in the bowl. " _Crescere."_

After the eggs multiplied to fill the large bowl, he used the spell on the bread, and then the baked beans Donnie hurried to dump into the pot.

Frank and his girlfriend sauntered over. "We don't use spells to eat," Frank said. "This pack takes what it needs."

"If you used spells, the pack wouldn't have to risk stealing in quantity—and no one would go hungry waiting for others to bring back food." Remus beat the eggs with a fork.

Frank snorted. "Look around. No wands."

Remus moved around the table to pour the eggs into the skillet as Donnie and the girl with flame red hair placed bread in the oven to toast while the others looked on. "Will Hughes doesn't have one either," he said. "It didn't stop him from learning magic."

"You taught Will magic." Disbelief and challenge mingled in Frank's voice.

"Yes."

The girl next to Donnie asked, "Can you teach us?"

 

 

Tonks kept the mirror with her at all times, even on the first day when she didn't expect Remus to contact her. It was a comfort to be able to touch it. When the second day passed without hearing from him, she wasn't too disappointed. She understood that Remus would be under close watch, and she wanted him to be careful. Once the third lonely night passed, however, her tightly knit composure began to unravel. What was going on? Was someone dogging his every ruddy footstep? She would have climbed up on the roof or pretended to be sick if that was what it took to see his face for a few minutes. Why hadn't he done the same for her?

It didn't help that the villagers she tried to serve and protect avoided her like dragon pox since Jerry had left. Dawlish and the Macbeths kept "the accident" hushed up, but somehow everyone in Hogsmeade knew she and Jerry spent the night with Hamish and Fiona, and he had transferred back to London the next day. The consensus appeared to be that she was to blame. Women stared at her accusingly. Men looked at her speculatively.

Wizard scouts threw snowballs at her and ran.

The first few times the little pixies ambushed her, Tonks laughed it off. It wasn't until the third day since Jerry left—the fourth day without contact with Remus— that she finally realised the boys weren't pranking her mischievously.

After her morning patrol, she dropped by the sports supply shop. "Hullo, Hamish," she said when he looked up from stocking shelves near the front counter.

"Auror Tonks. How are you?"

Gone were the days when he affected a thick brogue to ask, "Hoo hae ye bin?" She said, "I'd be better if you'd tell the troop to lay off pelting me with snowballs every chance they get. I know they miss Jerry, but I didn't make him leave. He chose to go and—" She blinked back tears. "I miss him too."

_I miss my friend, and oh gods, I miss Remus._

"Tonks—"

"I have to go," she said, leaving quickly before she bawled and gave Hamish the wrong idea about her feelings for Jerry.

Outside, lightly falling snow made the village look like an illustration in a Christmas story. The idyllic scene was salt in the wound to Tonks. She wanted to go somewhere that wasn't picture-perfect and talk to someone who didn't listen to village gossip.

She decided to visit Annis Black.

First, Tonks strolled down a side street to the teashop. It wasn't open for business yet, but after she'd knocked for five minutes straight, Madam Puddifoot came to the door. The frowning proprietor wiped her hands on a floral apron and let Tonks in. "Has there been vandalism to the shop?"

"No. I need teacakes."

"Graham's Grocer carries a selection."

Tonks grimaced. "Prepackaged. Nothing like yours."

The flush of irritation on flour-streaked cheeks became a rosy glow. "Quite true."

"I'll take one of each of those mini cakes you have on display behind the glass," Tonks said. There were half a dozen.

Madam Puddifoot beamed. "I'll box them right up!"

A silent ward must have registered Tonks's presence the moment she appeared on the hillside. Before she could speak, a charm carried Annis's raspy voice over the pile of rocks that concealed her home.

"Come in! I've made a pot of Earl Grey!"

Tonks levitated over the rocks and offered the box to the woman who waited in the doorway of the cave. "I brought tea cakes."

"Your aura is dark violet," Annis said, in a tone that reminded Tonks of Divination class on the rare occasions Trelawney didn't sound as though she was making things up as she went along. "You have obstacles to overcome, and you feel misunderstood."

That was an understatement, but Tonks didn't want to talk about it. "I brought an assortment," she said. "I hope Apparating didn't make them stale."

Annis gestured for Tonks to have a seat at the table set for two in front of the fireplace. "I'm sure they will taste fine." Her nostrils flared. "Do I smell fruitcake?"

"Yeah." Tonks sat and added a couple of sugar cubes to the tea in her cup. "My mum makes one like it with the fruit and nuts decorating the top." She stirred the tea, thinking of her plan to spend her brief holiday leave—Christmas Eve—with Remus. She and Dad wouldn't sneak down to the kitchen for a midnight snack of fruitcake this year.

A sip of tea didn't soothe the ache in her throat.

"Here. Enjoy," Annis said.

Tonks gave a startled laugh. Annis had served them both a slice from each cake. "I can't eat all this!"

"Neither can I, yet I am determined to taste them all."

"Sound good to me." Tonks speared a forkful of chocolate cake. "Mmm!"

Annis took a second bite of marzipan-topped fruitcake. "Delicious."

The two women ate in companionable silence broken only by appreciative sounds or comments. By the time Tonks finished a third cup of tea and scraped the last bit of chocolate icing from her plate, she was stuffed and feeling much cheerier. "Thanks for inviting me in after I dropped by unannounced," she said.

"I knew you were coming."

Tonks felt a shiver run down her back. "You had a dream?"

"Yes."

"The she-wolf padded into the cave again?"

Dark eyes that saw more than Tonks was comfortable with gleamed in the firelight. "No. A woman walked into the cave, and when I looked into her eyes, I woke up." Annis smiled gently. "Ask your question."

"I don't—" Tonks broke off. She  _did_ have a question. She just hadn't realised it. "It's not a full moon," she said. "Can I still use the sky stone for astral travel?"

"Yes. You are spiritually attuned to your mate, whatever his form."

"And if I search the astral plane—"

"You will find him."

 

Tonks clung to that reassurance, hours later, as she held the turquoise in her hand and relaxed her body until she drifted into an altered state of consciousness. Immediately, her astral spirit drifted up, out of her body, without the aid of imagining a rope to climb to freedom. The pull of her need to be with Remus drew her out of the Hog's Head, away from the village, toward Inverness.

The night was beautiful, but a sense of urgency replaced the dreamy awe she'd felt before. Her spirit flew like a comet, blazing through the darkness until she reached the place her lover dwelled. She floated through walls to hover over his sleeping body. He curled on his side in a sleeping bag on the floor.

_Remus? Is your spirit awake?_

A silvery rope materialised.

_Reach out. Pull yourself free._

His spirit continued to sleep along with his physical body. It was an unnatural slumber. She rejected anger that would break the connection and willed with all her might.

_Reach out. They can't drug your spirit. Pull yourself free!_

The hand she tried to visualise stretching out transformed into the jaws of an astral wolf. He clamped the rope between his teeth and stared at her with eyes of burning amber. She pulled his spirit free and followed him into the moonlight.

 

Awakened by the blare of her alarm, Tonks sat up and raked a hand through her hair. Her fingers shook. Merlin! What was happening in Inverness? She couldn't wait anymore. She kicked the duvet out of the way and swung her legs off the bed as she reached for the mirror on the side table. "Remus," she called. "For stars' sake answer me!"

Tears slid down her cheeks when his face appeared in the mirror. Remus looked tired, gaunt, and beautiful. "I ducked into a toilet stall," he whispered. "No one's followed, but I can't talk long. I'm watched constantly during the day, and at night I'm so tired I can’t keep my eyes open."

"You're drugged," she said.

"How—"

"Something in your food or drink." He would figure it out. "When are they going to let you go?"

"When Skoll finds a teacher to replace me."

Suddenly, it was clear why Remus believed he was passing out from exhaustion. "You're teaching them wandless magic—like Will."

"I had to. They're so young, they've never had a chance." The lines around Remus's eyes deepened. "Children shouldn't have to fight—or kill—to eat."

No, they shouldn't. "You're doing the right thing."

His lips curved. "You don't know how good it feels to hear you say that."

Tonks kissed the mirror, wishing he could feel it. "You don't know how good it is to see you. I can take separation—handle anything—if I know you're OK."

Remus's gaze sharpened. "What's going on in Hogsmeade? Anything I should know about?"

"Nothing important," she said with conviction. Everything that had happened could be shared later. Until they were together, and she felt his arms around her, nothing was important as his safety. "I love you," she said.

"I love you." His eyes shifted to the right. "I have to go."

"Take care, professor."

When the mirror reflected only her face, Tonks held it to her chest and cried.

 

There had been the slightest hesitation before she'd assured him nothing important was happening. His lover was hiding something. What? It had to be personal for her to dismiss it so easily. Conflict with Dawlish, perhaps, or gossip in the village—talk about her? Had Jerry confessed his feelings?

_And I'm no comfort at all, wrapped up in my own troubles. You deserve better, Nymphadora._

"Professor Lupin? You all right in there?"

His shadow and eager pupil, Donnie, had found him. Remus concealed the mirror in a spell-guarded pocket and exited the stall. "I'm a little dizzy this morning."

A guilty expression flashed across the boy's face. "Steak and eggs will fix you up," Donnie said. "Lark and Frank went foraging last night."

The pack had adopted the "old" term for scavenging and theft. It might be unethical to teach spells that enabled petty crimes to be committed unobtrusively, but Remus considered it a greater wrong for children to starve, physically and intellectually.

It was humbling, the way everyone except Skoll responded eagerly to lessons in wandless magic. Remus was sure part of the appeal was the change in routine. From what he had observed, the pack lounged around the warehouse between forays into the enemy territory of Muggles and wizards. Rather like students in a common room, they listened to Orpheus Orbs, flirted and squabbled, read books and played games to pass the time.

The main draw of spell casting wasn't novelty, however. It was power. Without the ability to work magic, only the Change differentiated werewolves from Squibs and Muggles. Skoll was older than the rest of the pack, raised by Greyback to be his heir. Remus suspected he could cast spells, but never taught the others in order to safeguard his position as Alpha.

If it made Skoll uneasy that Greyback ruled teaching magic would be Remus's test of loyalty, he concealed it behind a mask of scornful amusement. He left the warehouse before the start of each session. Not once did he ask about progress.

Compared to first years at Hogwarts using wands, Remus's students didn't accomplish much. Unlike Will, though, none of his unorthodox class had expected to Summona quill on the first try.

Remus washed his hands and trailed Donnie to the kitchen where Adrienne, the girl who helped make breakfast the first day, was once again in charge. "Yes, Emmett, I have to cut up the steak. A whole one won't fit into the mini oven!" She thrust a plate of food at the boy who muttered that one day he'd find a spell to fix that problem.

_One day._

A sense of dread gripped Remus. Here he was, teaching these half-wild children to claim their birthright and work magic. How would they use it? He wanted them to live a better life, to have the power to make their own choices like the Salford pack. What if they chose a Dark path? Harmed others in Voldemort's name?

Distantly, he was aware of Adrienne speaking. "Professor, are you OK?"

Nymphadora's voice echoed in his mind.

_I can take separation—handle anything—if I know you're OK._

"It's that stuff you put in his tea," Remus heard Donnie say in a harsh undertone. "Stop doing it! Skoll doesn't have to know."

"All right," Adrienne whispered.

Remus felt a hand touch his arm. "Come on, professor, let's have breakfast."

The concern in Donnie's voice broke through Remus's melancholy. Not all Slytherins became Death Eaters, and not all werewolves were Dark. He smiled at the boy who had re-taught him that lesson. "Thank you."

Donnie looked pleased and embarrassed. "Do you like your eggs over-easy?"

Remus nodded.

 

A week later, he shook his head in disbelief when his replacement walked into the warehouse. "You're the new teacher?"

Delia Bowen gave him a steely look. "Basic spells, not Advanced Transfiguration, Lupin. Do you doubt my competence?"

"Of course not." He stepped close to ask, "Were you coerced?"

Her stiff posture relaxed. "Inverness is where I want to be," she said, "doing work that's meaningful for a change."

"I understand." She wanted to be near Lillie, and do more than putter around a council house waiting to collect benefits. He glanced around at the watching pack members and wondered how Delia's new students would respond to her no-nonsense attitude. Respectfully, he'd wager.

Kemp dragged two suitcases and a large duffle into the warehouse. "Hullo, Lupin. Where do I set up our tent?"

"Upstairs," said Donnie, bounding forward. "I'll escort you." He grinned impishly at Remus behind the other man's back.

Remus returned the smile. His personal shadow had a new assignment. While he wouldn't miss having to elude the boy to snatch brief moments to contact Nymphadora, Remus would miss Donnie's cheerful companionship and the company of others in the pack. "They have a lot of potential," he said softly, half to himself.

"Don't we all," Delia replied. She paused. "May I owl you if have questions about lessons, or . . .." She shrugged.

"Please do." He extended his hand.

Delia shook it.

The cheekier members of the pack wolf-whistled.

Hours later, after running the gauntlet of Skoll's cryptic "the test will never be over" farewell and a long debriefing by Dix and Cleave once back in Salford, Remus returned to the flat he'd shared with Will and the room without a view. He closed the door and sat on the bed, not bothering to remove his coat. He took out the communication mirror.

Nymphadora's face appeared instantly. "Remus! Tell me you're in Salford."

"I'm in Salford."

Her face lit up. "Happy Christmas!"

"Not for a few more days, and a good thing too. I haven't done any shopping."

"I don't care about gifts. You're my present."

He chuckled. "If your parents weren't visiting, I'd ask you to request emergency leave to come unwrap me."

"Emergency leave!" Her eyes sparkled. "I'm flattered."

"I've missed you. A day isn't enough to make up for lost time."

"You could visit me after you spend Christmas Day with Harry," she said. "Christmas night, or Boxing Day—you use a Disillusionment Charm, and I'll take all my meals in my room."

"Won't Jerry question your absence?" He watched closely and caught the instant of hesitation before she put on a smile.

"No," she said. "He won't ask questions, but what about Cleave and Dix?"

"I told them I'm spending the holidays with my partner."

A smile teased the corners of her mouth. "I wish I could tell Dawlish that. He thinks he's Father Christmas for allowing a day of leave."

Remus asked, "Has there been a threat to the school or the villagers to warrant that kind of heightened security?"

"Not since the tip about werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. Dawlish is paranoid." She made a face. "I don't want to talk about it. I want to hear about Inverness. The bits you've shared make me even more curious." Her tone became sultry. "I'm going to lie back against my pillows and let you tell me a story. And at the end, I'll describe what I'm wearing."

If Nymphadora was using her wiles to distract him from questioning how she'd spent their hours apart, Remus didn't mind. He, too, preferred not to discuss sensitive issues long distance. He shrugged out of his coat and stretched out on the bed. "Tell me the colour first."

Her laugh was throaty and sexy. "Red."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still waiting for Christmas! D'oh! Blame the werewolves. They complained that they weren't done justice in the books. :D
> 
> On a different note, (pun intended) some of you may have heard Semisonic sing Closing Time (you don't have to go home but you can't stay here) when Remus quoted Seneca. Those who didn't, go listen on youtube so I won't be alone in having it stuck in my head! I'm not a rabid Trekkie, (Considering Uhura's short red dress uniform and black boots for Halloween doesn't count) but I do have a fondness for Captain Jean Luc Picard, so I had Annis offer his favourite tea. (And yes, I did hear him say "Make it so" as I typed. First music, then voices. Ah, the perks of writing!) For anyone wondering, ch 18 was the first time Tonks used the sky stone/turquoise for astral travel. Will it be the last? There are four more chapters in which to find out!


	27. Waiting for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my chapter titles mixed up, but now they're sorted: ch 26 is The Waiting Time and 27 is Waiting for Christmas.

 

 

Tonks lied about her knickers. They were basic black, not red, cotton, not lace. Compared to lies she'd fed her parents, though—she was fine; she didn't owl because she was busy; she preferred the Hog's Head to the Three Broomsticks—her lie to Remus was small and lily-white. It wasn't as if she didn't own lacy red panties. She planned to wear them on Christmas Eve.

She didn't feel guilty for indulging in fantasy and bringing a smile to her love's face. If anything pricked her conscience, it was what she didn't say. Those issues could wait. Her priority was to keep Remus safely focused on his mission.

After they said goodnight, Tonks put away the mirror and picked up one of the Christmas cards on her bedside table. The cards from family and friends were the only decorations in the room. Her mum had wanted to send an enchanted tree-in-a-box, but Tonks turned down the offer. A tree wouldn't fill her with cheer, it would remind her of Christmas pasts. Besides, there were plenty of sparkly trees to admire in village windows and up at the castle.

The hand-painted snowman on the front of Jerry's card wore a red scarf and a smile of tiny, wooden black buttons. Tonks set the card down without glancing at the message inside. She didn't need to. The line had engraved itself into her memory.

**Nothing's the same without you.**

"No shit," Tonks muttered. How could things be the same when they weren't partners anymore? She patrolled alone, and he, according to her best mate and fellow Auror, Julia, now trained a rookie who filled out paperwork while Jerry took the lead in questioning witnesses and suspects.

Mrs. Connelly must be thrilled and relieved that her baby boy was home once more. It was easy to picture Mrs. C in a tweed suit and pearls, ordering her husband to mind the glass ornaments as he adjusted the magicked candles to float above each branch. "Darling Jerreth" would receive praise for setting the angel atop the tree so carefully—and then she would ask him to tilt it a little to the left.

Imagining the Connellys together led to thoughts of the Tonks/March/Laurence clan. Her Muggle Gran, aunts, cousins, assorted in-laws, and family friends were gathering at Aunt Bess's for Christmas dinner. Since Tonks wouldn't be there to question, everyone would grill her parents as to when she was coming back to London and why didn't she keep in touch the way she used to. Was she working for the government? Was her assignment classified? Was she in danger?

Mum would get frosty, and Dad would smooth things over and change the subject. The cousins would look at each other and slip away to the upstairs loo to discuss the "situation." Rita, Lora, Amy, Liz, and Meg would take turns touching up their makeup and speculating about where she was, and if Remus was involved.

Tonks could almost hear their voices; imagine them shouting in chorus, "find another toilet," when someone knocked on the door. It took a moment to realise that the knock she'd heard was a tap on  _her_ door.

"Nymphadora?"

In one word, her mother asked if she was all right and ordered her to open the door right now, young lady. It was an enviable talent.

Tonks rushed to obey. "Hullo, Mum." She waved Andromeda inside. "I was looking at Christmas cards.”

Her mother smiled, cat-like. "How fortuitous. I come bearing Christmas cards ready for the post. The only thing missing is your personal greeting." She handed Tonks a stationery box and took off her green hooded cloak. "If you need festive-coloured ink, I brought gold and silver."

"I have red self-inking quills—and I'm perfectly capable of purchasing and sending my own Christmas cards."

"I didn't say you weren't capable."

"You implied—"

"That you wouldn't send cards this year without my assistance. Can you deny it?"

Tonks sent her parental know-it-all a sour look and plopped down on the bed. She opened the box of cards painted with Scottish snow scenes. "I'm just signing my name. Nothing else." She took out the first envelope. "Except to Gran," she said, looking at the address. "I'll tell her I'm stuck in a twee village, visited Loch Ness but didn't see Nessie—that's only fudging a bit, I did eat a steak in Drumnadrochit." She Summoned her quill and began to write. "It won't be a fib to say I miss her biscuits and her hugs."

" _Drumnadrochit_? When were you there?" her mother asked.

"Last month," Tonks replied absently.

"The fifteenth?"

"Yeah." Tonks signed her name with a flourish and sealed the envelope. The next card in the box was addressed to Aunt Daisy and Uncle Onslo. She signed, "Love, Tonks" beneath the printed holiday message and reached for the next envelope.

"Were you part of the investigation when that poor girl was drugged?"

Tonks finished jotting a short note to Lora and Gerald and set the card aside. It was one thing not to volunteer information to someone she loved, another to lie outright. "I was the girl." She saw the dark fire in her mum's eyes and said quickly, "I wasn't molested. Jerry took care of me, called in a Healer, notified Dawlish and the MLE." Tonks drew in a breath and added, "The bastards responsible will be in Azkaban for a long, long, time, so don't even  _think_ about tracking them down and doing something Unforgiveable."

"I'm not Bellatrix. I'd never use an Unforgiveable when there are other curses to inflict pain." Tonks was swept into a tight, vanilla-scented hug. Her mum always smelled like sugar biscuits at the holidays. Andromeda released a shaky breath. "Praise the stars you weren't harmed," she whispered. "It must have been so frightening."

Tonks could feel her lips tremble. "I went off my head. I thought Jerry was Remus and . . . he misunderstood." Her throat ached too much to go on. She buried her face against her mum's shoulder to hide her tears.

The arms around Tonks squeezed comfortingly. "I'm sorry, darling."

_I'm sorry too. Sorry my life's a mess, sorry I'm dumping this on you at Christmas._ She clung to her mother. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I tend to hold things back as well—for the good of others, of course," her mum said wryly. "Whenever I kept things from your father, he wasn't pleased when the truth came out, but he always forgave and understood."

New tears welled when Tonks felt a soft kiss on her cheek and heard, "And so will I."

_Tap, tap tap._

Her dad called through the door, "Ready for a snack? I made tea."

"Spledid!" Tonks answered. She lowered her voice. "Quick, hit me with a Complexion Charm. I don't want him to worry."

"Too late," her mum said as she cast the spell. "Ted can't help it. He knows what we're capable of."

Tonks hurriedly scratched her name inside a card while her mum answered the door. She was sealing the envelope when her father came in, bearing a tray. "Good timing, Dad, my hand was starting to cramp. I think the warmth of the teacup will relax my writing muscles, and the chocolate biscuits will give me energy."

"They'll taste good too," Ted said. "Mrs. McFee sent them."

He placed the tea tray on the clothes trunk while her mother conjured a couple of extra chairs. They sat in a tight semi-circle. Tonks would've suggested they use her parents' room, but they were staying next door, and with the bed spell-enlarged to fit two, they had less space to entertain than she did. "This reminds me of tea parties when I was little," Tonks said.

Her dad patted his stomach. "When there was less of me to love."

"That's only because we love you more every day," her mum said with a warm smile.

Tonks blinked furiously to hold back tears. Their love for each other was what she felt for Remus. She wanted to build a life with him, create memories and a child together, but when would that happen? After the war? That could be months, years. She was tired of waiting. Why postpone happiness? Duty? Her parents hadn't let anything keep them apart. Was she going to let anything keep her from Remus?

Resolve dried her tears. Tonks even managed to smile. When her parents left the next morning, and she started to feel down again, she reminded herself that she would see Remus in only a couple of more days.

 

On the twenty-fourth, she awoke before her alarm and jumped out of bed, eager to get a shower and be on her way. The night before, Remus had checked into a bed and breakfast in Ottery St. Catchpole, a village near the Burrow. They planned to spend the day there before he joined the Weasleys at the Burrow for dinner.

In the holiday spirit, she chose a red cashmere jumper and black denims to go with her black boots and scarlet cloak, dressing swiftly before packing clothes into a rucksack. Tonks hooked a strap over a shoulder, warded the room, and headed for the stairs. She hummed _God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs_ as she walked through the pub on the way to the Floo.

"Auror Tonks."

Dawlish. Damn. She turned to see her boss drinking coffee and reading the paper at the bar. They were the only two people in the room. "Merry Christmas," she said. Something in his expression kept her from using the word "happy."

"Merry Christmas," he replied brusquely, in the same tone he would use to say good morning. "Proudfoot is ill."

Jerry gone, Proudfoot down, and Savage on leave: that left her and Dawlish. Tonks refused to panic. "OK," she said. "I'll stow my gear and take the first two patrols before I check out."

Dawlish's set features relaxed into a half-smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll change into a heavier cloak and start my rounds." She marched back upstairs and immediately contacted Remus.

He looked rumpled and sexy. "Are you downstairs in the lobby?"

"No, I can't leave until after the first two shifts. Proudfoot's lurgy."

"That's too bad," he said, "but don't worry, I'll be here waiting." He smiled wolfishly. "In great anticipation."

She couldn't help it; she had to ask, "Are you naked?"

"Yes."

_Why couldn't magic mirrors expand to full length? Why?_ "Stay that way."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Yes, ma'am."

Tonks kissed the mirror, cheered at the thought of soon being able to kiss Remus in person.

 

Her morning was uneventful, not that she'd expected anything different. All but a few students were at home spending Christmas with their families. It wouldn't make sense for You-Know-Who to attack an empty school.

After she patrolled the village, Tonks made her rounds of the castle. She encountered no one, not even a ghost. The dead silence was eerie. It reminded her of the horror films her Gran loved so much: the ones with creatures that preyed on silly girls who wandered deserted corridors. The dungeon level was especially creepy, with torches eternally flickering and drafts trailing like icy fingers across the nape of her neck.

_Creak!_

She jumped when the door to one of dungeons swung open. In unison, Filch and his cat turned their heads to stare at her.

Rude gits. Tonks's Black streak flared. She told Filch, "If you're looking for mistletoe, there's a kissing ball floating in the entry." She smirked at Mrs. Norris. "Right by the suits of armour."

Yowls followed her up the stairs.

 

Four hours later, Tonks trailed after the rosy-cheeked proprietor of The White Witch bed and breakfast. Mrs. Comfrey led her up rose carpeted steps to a room on the top floor.

"The honeymoon suite was the only one available, but your husband said it would do nicely, and a man and wife should enjoy many honeymoons." The grandmotherly woman sighed. "Such a romantic thing to say." She sighed again. "Ah, well, here we are, have a lovely stay, Mrs. Wolfe."

"Thank you."

Tonks waited until Mrs. Comfrey bustled her way downstairs to knock on the door. If Remus answered it naked, the last thing she wanted was an audience.

He wore a white robe and drew her into his arms so fast; if Mrs. Comfrey had loitered, she wouldn't have seen a thing even if he hadn't worn a stitch. Tonks hugged him back, turning her head to kiss his throat and the line of his jaw. "I missed you so much."

"I've missed you too." Remus captured her lips with his while backing into a room that was a sea of white.

Draperies, linens, paint, and furniture: everything was a shade of ivory. Tonks would've preferred all pink, but she wasn't there to critique decorating style. She nudged the door shut with her foot. "You're overdressed," she said between deliriously passionate kisses.

He chuckled. "So are you."

She immediately unfastened her cloak and let it drop. "Bet a body massage I can strip faster than you can."

Remus nuzzled her throat. "How will you manage that?"

"I learned a new spell. Watch." Tonks held out her arms and cried, " _Exuo vestis!_ " In the blink of an eye, her clothing—including her Christmas red knickers—vanished and reappeared on a side chair. She frowned. "Why am I still wearing boots?"

"The spell was designed to remove clothing, not footwear."

"Oh. I didn't think of that." Tonks sat on the edge of the satin-covered bed and lifted a leg. "How about a little help?"

Remus untied the sash of his robe. "Right after I win a certain bet."

 

 

A few hours later, Remus groaned in contentment as Nymphadora's hands smoothed oil over his back. The smooth, relaxing sweeps up and down his sides caused his eyes to grow eyes heavy. He breathed in the scent of almond oil and said, "This is my idea of a happy Christmas."

"Mine, too, and I'm not just saying that because I got the first massage." She kissed his cheek. "You're such a gentleman, always insisting ladies go first."

Remus closed his eyes to rest them for a moment. "It was my . . .."

He awoke when Nymphadora gently shook his shoulder. "I ran a bath. I figured you'd like to clean up before you visit the Weasleys." Her fingertips glided down his arm. "Take some of this shine off."

Remus eyed the clock on the fireplace mantel. "It's still early yet."

"That's why we're not taking a shower."

To show his appreciation of Nymphadora's time management skills, he bounded out of bed and carried her into the bathroom.

After a long, satisfying soak, Remus dressed while Nymphadora propped up on pillows in bed with a velvet-lined box of chocolates and a romance novel to keep her company. "It isn't too late to change your mind," he said. "The children would love to see you."

"I'd love to see them, but Molly wouldn't like me holding your hand and shocking  _impressionable children,_ so it's best I don't."

Remus gave up trying to persuade and kissed her. "Save me a few chocolates."

 

The memory of a cheeky-sweet smile kept Remus from envying all the warm looks that passed between couples throughout dinner. He listened to the conversations and watched Harry smile over one of Fred and George's stories, feeling grateful to be included yet wistful because Nymphadora was not. In the lounge afterwards, he settled into a chair beside the fire and stared into the flames.

Harry's mention of Severus broke Remus's self-preoccupation. He caught the edge in the boy's tone and reminded Harry that Dumbledore trusted Severus. That should be enough for them to do likewise. It wasn't a matter of like or dislike, it was the man's actions that counted. If Harry relayed his suspicions, he might very well learn Dumbledore ordered Severus to question Draco.

The expression on Harry's face said he wasn't convinced, but he changed the subject—to the one Remus least wished to discuss: his mission. There was no way to sum up the complex dynamics of the packs, to condense the differences and hardships each faced into a few sentences. He tried and ended up sounding like a bitter professor, which, sadly, perhaps he was.

Remus made the mistake of mentioning Greyback. He clenched his fists to remain composed as he explained the twisted reasoning behind the monster's targeting of children, and that when Greyback attacked him; it was an act of revenge against his father.

The sympathy in Harry's eyes was so like Lily. His insistence that Remus was normal and just had "a problem," however, was pure James.

Remus had to laugh. As he told Harry how much he resembled James, he could almost hear the voices of his friends.

_Sirius was laughing. "Dorcas invited us—meaning you, Moony—to study for NEWTs in the library after dinner. I told her you—meaning we—regretfully had a prior engagement."_

_"Engaged? Somebody's engaged? Who?" Peter asked._

_"Engagement as in commitment, not marriage, worm-brain," Sirius shot back._

_"Not that marriage isn't a commitment," James said._

_Sirius snorted. "One you dream of making as soon as you can convince Lily to shove a ring on her finger. We know, Prongs, we know. Don't start. We have more pressing—and entertaining—matters to discuss."_

_James chuckled. "Moony's furry little problem."_

_"Not his problem. Ours!" Sirius said. "We haven't decided on the night's adventure!"_

Arthur came by, a tray of eggnog in hand. Remus thanked him and took a glass.

When Arthur moved to offer a nightcap to Bill and Fleur, Harry leaned forward and asked if Remus had ever heard of the Half-Blood Prince.

Remus hadn't. His joke about Harry adding it to his titles didn't go over well, and neither did his attempt to indirectly reassure Harry that whoever wrote spells in his old Potions book wasn't James. He ended up saying straight out that it wasn't James, Sirius, or himself.

Harry looked so discouraged by the news that Remus suggested he check the date of the book to see when the self-titled Prince was at Hogwarts.

A few moments later, Fleur's eggnog-fuelled imitation of Celestina Warbeck acted as everyone's cue to go upstairs to bed. The younger children practically bolted from the room, followed almost as quickly by Bill and his giggling fiancée.

Fred—by the letter on his jumper—said, "We'll show you to your room, professor."

Remus turned to Molly.

She reddened a little. "I knew Harry wanted you here. It was no trouble."

"Yeah, she put Bill in with us, so you have his room all to yourself," George said.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I'll show Remus up when the time comes, boys. You go on to bed."

The twins exchanged a look.

"Yes, Dad," said Fred.

"Anything for Father Christmas," said George.

" _Why_ do I get the feeling those boys are planning mischief?" Molly said after the twins strolled out of the room.

Arthur paused in collecting empty glasses. "You're a mother."

"Why do I get the feeling you're using me to keep Fleur from wandering the corridors at night?" Remus asked Molly.

Her eyes sparkled impishly. "I told the boys you were arriving tonight, not that you'd be sleeping here." She picked up a glass and set it on Arthur's tray. "Breakfast is at eight."

Remus no longer wondered where the twins got their devious streak. He bid Arthur and Molly a good night. Outside, the moon was luminous and round. It would be full in two days. He shrugged.  _Better Boxing Day than Christmas._

In one of the upper windows, three candles flared to life. Remus's sharp eyesight distinguished three shadowy figures peering through the glass.

It could have been a scene from the past transported to the present.

_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._

Remus grinned and Apparated.

 

Nymphadora was asleep when he returned, the box of chocolate and book stacked on the bedside table. She had kicked off the covers. In the firelight, her "Christmas knickers" were deep red against porcelain skin. As he disrobed, Remus took in changes he hadn't fully noticed before.

She was much thinner. Her runner's body remained toned and fit, but her collarbones and pelvic bones jutted out. Delicate wrists and fingers now looked fragile.

He eased onto the bed, trying not to wake her.

Nymphadora's eyes fluttered open. "Is it Christmas yet?"

"Near enough. Would you like to open presents?"

She snuggled into his arms. "This is my present, spending time with you." Her eyelids started to close.

"I've missed holding you," he said. "This is a gift to me."

"Mmm," she said. "You feel so good."

"Is there anything special you'd like to talk about?" he asked.  _What's going on in your life? Why don't you mention Jerry anymore? Did something happen?_

"No. I want to hear how you spent Christmas when you were little," she said sleepily. "What it always just you and your parents?"

"Sometimes." Remus accepted that he'd have to wait to find out what was going on in Hogsmeade. He kissed her brow. "Other years, the friends my mother considered adopted family crowded around our table."

"And all the adults spoilt you terribly."

He chuckled, remembering. "Yes, they did."

"I'm glad," she said around a yawn. "You deserve special treatment."

Remus watched Nymphadora drift off to sleep and whispered, "So do you."

 

They awoke early the next morning to exchange presents before Nymphadora had to leave. Her face lit up to see the Weird Sisters jacket he'd found at a second-hand shop, and he was impressed with his gift.

" _Latin Limericks_ ," he said with a smile. "Are they bawdy?"

"Not the first one," she said. "Ironically, the earliest application of the limerick metre was a thirteenth century prayer to resist all limericks came to stand for—or so it said in the book."

"I'll read it and think of you."

Nymphadora widened her eyes. "The prayer?"

"The bawdy ones."

"Thank Merlin!" She threw herself into his arms.

 

During Christmas dinner, Remus spooned parsnips onto his plate, thinking that if Nymphadora had been there, she would have smirked at him for accepting a dish he wasn't particularly fond of to be polite. His ears pricked when Fleur said "Tonks." He almost dropped the bowl when Molly said she'd invited " _dear_  Tonks," and asked Remus if he'd spoken to her lately.

The dictionary definition of lately was the recent past. Put on the spot, Remus pulled a Sirius and considered recent to mean in the last two hours. "No," he said, hedging the truth, "I haven't been in contact with anybody very much." In order to keep to the Adult Conspiracy agreement he'd made with Molly back in Grimmauld Place, he added, as if he didn't know where she was or how she would spend the day, "But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmmm," said Molly. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

Remus returned her look of irritation. What was she driving at? Had Molly changed her mind about adults keeping romantic lives private where the children were concerned? He stabbed a slice of turkey with unnecessary force. He would have appreciated advanced notice!

"Tonks's Patronus has changed its form," Harry announced out of the blue.

The turkey in Remus's mouth turned to sawdust. He took his time chewing and swallowing in order to say unemotionally, "Sometimes...a great shock...an emotional upheaval."

"It looked big, and it had four legs."

Harry definitely had his father's unending curiosity and determination to ferret out secrets. Remus would have preferred the boy take after his mother. Lily always waited for people to confide in her.

"Hey," Harry said, in a tone of discovery. "It couldn't be—?"

Remus never heard what Harry thought Nymphadora's new Patronus was. Molly cried out, "Arthur!" and everyone's attention became riveted on the window and the two men approaching the house.

Percy Weasley had come home for Christmas, and he had brought along a guest.

Rufus Scrimgeour.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best not to make it a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas, but some angst couldn't be helped. I also tried hard not to use too many direct quotes from the HBP Christmas chapter while I showed the scenes from Remus's point of view. I went with canon in describing the events, although I discovered a "furry little problem" of my own: In 1996, the December full moon rose on Christmas Eve. I went with my conviction that JKR intended the series to be timeless, not dated, and numbering the candles on Nick's deathday cake was a Flint, or a Fudge-up, so it would be fine to push the full moon back to Boxing Day. :D
> 
> For readers who haven't read the previous story, the Adult Conspiracy (named by Tonks, using a term created by Muggle author Piers Anthony in his series about a mythical land that includes adults who "conspire" to keep children ignorant about sex) was Molly's way of ensuring "impressionable children" not be exposed to the romantic lives of Order members. If she was hoping to keep them from wanting romances of their own, she failed!


	28. Dangers of Waiting

 

 

The Minister for Magic feigned reluctance to intrude upon the Weasleys and asked Harry to show him the "charming garden" while Percy visited with his family. A quick glance around the table showed Remus that no one else believed Scrimgeour had stopped in because he was "in the vicinity" either, but he was the only one who began to stand in protest.

Harry was already walking forward. "It's fine," he said calmly, much like his mother would have done.

Remus locked eyes with Scrimgeour.  _It had better be._

Scrimgeour inclined his head in acknowledgement or recognition—perhaps both—and stepped back to let Harry precede him. "We'll just take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

The moment the door shut, Fred and George jumped to their feet.

"It's not enough you ruined Mum's Christmas," Fred said.

"You had to go and ruin Harry's too?" George cracked his knuckles. "I'll have to find a way to express my feelings about that."

"There will be no Muggle-duelling!" Molly cried. "You boys will welcome your brother or—or go to your room this instant!"

Fred and George looked at each other and Apparated.

Ginny walked out of the kitchen immediately afterward.

Ron stayed, but he didn't welcome his brother. He kept his eyes on his plate and viciously mashed a sprout with his fork.

Bill said, "Percy, you remember Fleur, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. Congratulations on your engagement."

" _Merci beaucoup_ ," Fleur said coolly.

Molly clutched Percy's arm. "The Minister doesn't really expect us to catch up in five minutes."

"He's a busy man, Mother." Percy shrugged. "Nothing to tell, anyway. I work long hours."

"And how is Penelope?" Arthur asked.

"Fine, I suppose. We aren't seeing each other anymore." Percy's eyes slid to the window. "Harry's returning to the house. I should go." He strode to the door with undisguised eagerness, only to be halted by the spatter of what looked like parsnips across his face and glasses. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Ronald," Percy said as he stormed out.

Molly broke down in tears.

"I didn't do it," Ron said. "I wish I had!"

Arthur put his arms around Molly. "He came home. That's what matters. Go on and have a nap. I'll take care of the clearing up."

Remus stood and began stacking plates. "I'll help. It's the least I can do to show my appreciation for such a wonderful meal."

"Thank you." Molly sniffed. "I'll go after Harry tells us what the Minister wanted. A man who would use a family's love—" She broke off, catching sight of Harry. "Are you all right, dear?" Molly asked. "You weren't threatened?"

"He wanted me to visit the Ministry so people will think 'the Chosen One' is working for them." Harry squared his shoulders. "I told him I didn't want to be used, and I'm Dumbledore's man, through and through."

"Good for you, Harry!" said a voice near the doorway to the lounge. Ginny became visible. "I walked out so I wouldn't have to talk to Percy," she said, "but I didn't want to miss hearing what happened so I used a charm to sneak back in." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Throwing the parsnips was Fred and George's idea."

The twins appeared right behind her.

"How do you like that? She's blaming us!" said George.

Fred said, "No, she's giving us the credit."

Ginny nodded when George looked to her for confirmation.

He said, "Oh. Guess tickling in retaliation is out, then."

Fred clapped George on the shoulder. "We'll simply have to do it for fun." He lunged forward, wrapped an arm around his giggling sister's waist, and dragged her off.

George chortled like a fiend as he followed. "Not even the Chosen One and his knife-throwing sidekick will save you now, little girl."

"I think that's our cue," Harry said to Ron. "Do you want—"

"Chosen One before the sidekick." Ron smiled almost as evilly as his brothers had.

"Have counter-jinxes ready!" Bill called after them.

A few seconds later, uncontrolled bursts of merriment came from the lounge.

"The happy laughter of children brings back memories," Molly said, dabbing her eyes with a tea towel. Her face crumpled. "I think I'll have that rest now." She rushed out of the kitchen.

Remus saw the way Arthur's face tightened with concern and said, "Go after her. We'll take care of the dishes."

"Such drama and passion," Fleur said when only the three of them remained. "Eet makes me feel at 'ome."

Bill murmured something in French and kissed her hand.

She blushed and whispered something Remus was glad he couldn't hear. Some exchanges between couples should be private. He set glassware in the enchanted washbasin and watched them become clean by magic.

"Mum chose that basin over diamonds," Bill said, coming over to put away the glasses while Remus carried plates and cutlery to wash.

"Zat ees vairy English," Fleur said. "Frenchwomen expect diamonds  _and_ ze magic basin!"

"Do they get them?" Bill asked with a grin.

Fleur tossed her hair. " _Cela va de soi—_ zat goes without saying."

Her tone reminded Remus of Nymphadora's playful flirtatiousness. He yearned to see her face, her smile. "It's time for me to go," he said. "I don't want to disturb anyone, so please convey my thanks to Arthur and Molly for their hospitality."

Once outside, Remus reached for his communication mirror. "Nymphadora."

The surface of the mirror became cloudy. Nymphadora's smiling face appeared. "Hullo, love, how was everyone? Are you back in Salford?"

He decided to answer the last question first. It was simpler. "I'm standing in the Weasleys’ back garden. I missed you so much I couldn't wait."

All of a sudden, he had a close-up view of Nymphadora's lips as she kissed the mirror. He said, "Everyone was fine, but at the end of dinner Percy came for a visit and brought Rufus Scrimgeour with him." He repeated what Harry told the family.

Nymphadora said, "I don't agree with his methods, but at least Scrimgeour's doing his best to fight You Know Who. That's more than Fudge ever did."

"The end justifies the means?"

"No."

"But you don't consider his actions reprehensible."

"I think he was wrong to ask Harry to lie." She exhaled heavily. "I can understand why he did it, though. Scrimgeour thinks wizardkind's duty is to sacrifice for the greater good."

"Even personal integrity?"

"If necessary."

"Ministry first," Remus said, feeling bitterness rise.

"That's his choice, not Harry's...and certainly not mine."

He blinked. "I wasn't implying—"

"I know." Nymphadora's lips curved. "But isn't it nice to hear I'd never sacrifice you for some greater good?"

Remus realised he was being much too serious. "Very nice," he said. "How is everyone in Hogsmeade?"

"Filled with cheer. Our favourite barkeep grunted amiably when I wished him Happy Christmas, and dinner up at the castle was...interesting. Besides me, it was only staff, so they spent the whole meal comparing problem students." She rolled her eyes. "I made the mistake of asking if I'd been anyone's problem student during my years at Hogwarts."

"How many raised their hands?" Remus tried to keep the smile out of his voice.

"All of them."

He gave a bark of amusement.

The back door creaked opened and snapped closed. "Professor?" a boy's voice said hesitantly. It was Harry.

"Until later, my love," Remus whispered. He slipped the mirror into his pocket.

Harry said, "Bill told us you'd gone."

"I was sidetracked by snow." Remus smiled at Harry. "Your father's snowball throwing ability was almost as legendary as his skills as Chaser."

"Really?"

"Our snow forts were besieged many times, but never captured, thanks to James." He laughed a little. "There was a time I worried our streak would end. Lily and a group of her friends decided to take us on, and James refused to hit her, even with snow."

"What happened?"

"Sirius used a Disillusionment Charm to sneak out, stun her, and bring her back to our fort as a hostage. With Lily out of harm's way, Sirius, James and Peter fired snowballs at our attackers until they cried for peace and promised to conjure hot chocolate."

"What about you?" Harry asked. "Didn't you throw snowballs?"

"I fancied myself a pacifist," Remus said dryly. "I only made them."

Harry chuckled. "It sounds like fun."

"It was," Remus said. "I hope you'll forget about Scrimgeour and enjoy the rest of your holiday. Have some fun yourself."

"Yes, sir."

 

Remus didn't feel confident enough yet in his Long-Distance Apparation skills to attempt to journey directly to Salford, so he Apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole and paid the barman at the Jack in the Green to use the Floo. He travelled to London and then to Manchester before Apparating to Salford. He wanted to ensure no one could connect him to the Weasleys.

The precautions seemed silly until he entered the flat and Cleave, Travis, and Haas rose to face him. Remus didn't think they were having a private Christmas celebration. The men held wands, not drinks, and no one smiled.

Cleave said, "Hand over your wand, Lupin."

"Why?" Remus asked to buy time.

"Do what he says!" Travis's eyes glittered with excitement behind his stringy fringe. He pointed his wand at Remus's head.

"I can't," Remus said after casting a nonverbal spell. "I don't have it with me." He'd used a Transportation Charm to send it to Nymphadora. She would hopefully realise he had done it for safekeeping, not to ask for help.

"He isn't lying," Cleave said to his cronies.

Travis said, "Only one way to find out for sure.  _Accio_ wand!"

"He's clean," Haas said impatiently when Travis cast the spell again.

Cleave sneered. "That's not what Skoll says. Put down the bag and walk out the front door, Lupin. There's a car waiting." He told the other two, "Search the bag and the rest of the flat. If you find his wand, bring it to Dix."

Outside, a light rain fell.  _Cold,_ Remus noted with a sense of detachment.

Cleave waited until the driver of the squire cab had pulled away from the kerb and turned up the wireless to say, "You don't seem worried."

"No use," said Remus. He remembered a saying of Nymphadora's Gran. "It won't add a single hour to my life."

Cleave grunted and fell silent.

Within seconds, the cab jerked to a halt in front of the pub used for pack meetings. Remus asked, "Why didn't we walk?"

"I had my orders."

The growl in his tone was easy to decipher. Skoll doubted Cleave's ability to cast an Anti-Disapparation Jinx. Remus wondered why Dix hadn't vouched for his Beta—was it the same reason he was allowing the night's events to unfold? Self-preservation was a very strong instinct.

At the rear of the building, a young man stood guard.

"Frank," Remus said. "How are lessons?"

"Mrs. B tells more'n teaches."

"Have you learned any new spells?"

" _Alohomora."_ The door opened.

Remus was impressed. "Outstanding."

Cleave prodded him forward. "Stop playing the professor and get inside."

The shove thrust Remus through the doorway and into the pub. Three men sat at the bar. Two looked his way: Dix and Skoll. The third man finished draining his ale and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robes. In contrast to the other two, he was unkempt, with matted hair and long, claw-like fingernails. Fenrir Greyback. He slammed his tankard down on the bar and focused his gaze on Remus. "Professor Lupin. Funny how you teach but never learn."

"What do you mean?" asked Dix. "What has he done?"

Greyback ignored Dix to prowl toward Remus. "Tell me, did you forget the pain, or did you think you were so smart I wouldn't find out you purchased Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Neither," Remus said.

Cleave inhaled deeply. "He speaks the truth."

"I don't need you to tell me that." Greyback jerked his head toward the door. "Get out of my sight before I carve a reminder into your hide."

Cleave backed away. "Yes, sir."

"Yes,  _Alpha._ "

Cleave's eyes flickered to Dix for an instant before he bowed his head. "Yes, Alpha."

When only the four of them remained, Greyback transformed his hands into werewolf claws. "It's been fifteen years, Lupin. Have you forgotten what these can do?"

_The pit in the woods...twisting against the chains...howling in agony...the smell of blood—his blood, and the blood of the Muggle who had stumbled upon their camp._

Remus had lived in the woods outside Inverness, foraging, stealing, trying to fit in and relate to the werewolves. His mission was to gather information for Dumbledore and subvert Greyback's sway over the pack. Months passed. He fell out of touch with friends, sacrificed comfort, all in vain. After living like an animal, Greyback ordered him to act like one—to kill a harmless drunk who mistook the pack for fellow homeless living rough. Remus refused and earned "discipline." The man he tried to save Greyback gagged, bound, and tossed into the pit with Remus. After the change, the pack tore him to pieces and then turned on the wolf lying helpless in their midst.

"No," said Remus. "I haven't forgotten."

"Skoll has. He was only a cub." Greyback bared yellow teeth in a feral grin. "We'll give him a reminder, you and I. Tomorrow night."

 

 

The afternoon was dark and quiet, with villagers tucked away inside warm cottages as they listened to the wireless, rested beside a cosy fire, or watched children at play. Tonks trudged through the snow, relishing her solitude. She didn't have to paste on a smile. She was free to sigh deeply and whisper Remus's name. It was like being a teenager again, only better. There was no shame over making parents worry, no gloomy fear she would die an old, bitter virgin. Tonks had all the melancholy enjoyment of angst with none of the guilt.

She passed the evening in her room painting her toenails black and taking the quizzes in Cosmopolitan Witch magazines. According to the quiz creators, she was an independent free spirit with a penchant for danger, tons of willpower and the ability to stand up for herself. Tonks snorted. Tons of willpower, yeah, right. That's why she had eaten all the truffles out of the Christmas stocking her parents sent, and she was holding the communication mirror, ready to call Remus's name if he didn't call hers by ten o'clock.

Four minutes past ten, she called his name. The surface of the mirror didn't change. It continued to reflect only her face. She tried to convince herself that Dix had thrown a party, and Remus needed time to go somewhere private.

Ten minutes passed...fifteen...then thirty. In frustration, Tonks kicked the duvet off the bed. She heard a rattling sound and leaned over to see what had hit the floor.

It was Remus's wand.

_I didn't take his wand with me. He had to send it. Why?_

She picked up the wand and held it to her chest. Remus was in trouble. He had to be. That's why he sent his wand. That's why he couldn't answer her call.

_Wolfsbane Potion—Greyback found out somehow._

Remus had promised to accept the consequences if Greyback found out about the potion he was buying for Dix. She remembered the look on her love's face when she asked if he'd received a "lesson" in pack discipline and cursed. The next night was the full moon.

She pulled on jeans, boots, and a jumper, yanking her cloak off the back of a chair on the way out. Dawlish answered his door on the first knock. He was still fully dressed down to his shoes. "I need a day of personal leave," she said. "I don't have time to fill out request forms and go through proper procedure. I need you, as my supervisor, to exercise your authority to grant a day of leave." She took a breath and added, "Please."

"And if I don't?"

Her eyes filled with tears. Tonks pressed her lips together to keep from crying.

Dawlish took a step back. "You're obviously ill, Auror Tonks. I'm authorising you to take a day of sick leave." He nodded brusquely and shut the door.

She wiped her eyes with her fingertips. Did she really look contagious, or was that his way of getting around approving personal leave? It didn't matter. Whatever his reason, she had time off. Now she had to find out what was happening in Salford.

Tonks Flooed directly to the pub near the council estate. It was Christmas. Nobody was going to be monitoring Floo activity.

She was right. A surprising number of wizards and witches clustered around the bar and tables, but not one of them was positioned close enough to cast a Tracking Spell. She kept the hood of her cloak up and walked through the crowd without attracting more than a bleary glance or two. Outside, the sky was clear but the ground was wet. Would Trelawney consider that an omen? Remus had experienced a storm of accusations and was now in the clear? There was one way to find out.

The bloke who came to the door of the flat wore a MegaMaggot t-shirt. "Hullo!" she said. "Nice shirt. If we met at the party, I forgot. I'm Nym, here to see Remus."

"He's gone out."

Tonks cast a nonverbal Confundus Charm. "Then I'll wait for him." She took the man's arm and led him inside. She shut the door and steered him over to the futon. "We can have a chat."

"What about?" His tone was confused.

She gave his arm a slight tug to make him sit beside her. "Well, first you can tell me your name."

It took a few seconds for him to remember. "Haas."

"Where is Remus, Haas?"

"With Travis."

"And where is Travis?"

" _Inverness,"_ said a deep voice from the stairway. Cleave padded into the lounge.

Tonks shot to her feet.  _The one time I want to believe in Divination it's only weather._ "Where in Inverness?"

Cleave smiled. "With Greyback."

She forced herself to stay calm. It wasn't the end of the world. There were plenty of hours until the full moon, and she knew someone who could tell her where to find Greyback. Tonks said, "Pack business. I understand. When he gets back, tell Remus I dropped by."

Cleave moved between her and the door. "Tell him yourself. You're free to wait here." He leaned in close. "Spend the night."

"No, thanks."

"I insist."

She silently prepared to teach him that no meant no.

"Hey," Haas said. "Nym has claws!"

Cleave continued to stare into her eyes. "Are you going to scratch me, Kitten?"

"Depends.  _Petrificus Totalus!"_

Cleave froze.

Tonks raised her hands so Cleave could see her werewolf claws. "I'm not your kitten, but if it makes you feel better, I'm glad you weren't using a Shield Charm. I don't like to hurt people."

"Me either," said Haas. His brow furrowed. "Or do I?"

"Sit there and think about it," she said. "The spell should wear off in an hour." Tonks spoke to Cleave as much as Haas. "Goodbye."

 

She Apparated to the pub and drank a pint of ale while she waited for the Squire Cab to arrive. The trip to Dix's flat at the Quays was blessedly short—the driver only paused in singing off-key carols to take her Galleons and wish her Happy Christmas.

The building was posh, but the security was lax. The baggy-eyed security wizard didn't look up from his book as she passed him on the way to the lift. Tonks watched the doors close and thought about what Dix told Remus on his visit.  _"I can't build a brewery if I'm dead."_ If the Ministry was Scrimgeour's greater good, Dix's was the Salford pack. He expected Remus to go through with his sacrifice, but she had other plans.

No one responded when she knocked, so Tonks cast a  _Sonorous_ and began to sing, "God rest ye merry Hippogriffs, let nothing you dismay—"

Dix opened the door. His expression reminded her of Snape, but not his attire. "Snazzy robe," she said, thinking Remus would look better in the red silk. "Beg pardon, I know it's late. I won't keep you long. I just need Lillie and Will's address in Inverness." She saw Dix's eyebrow raise and quickly added, "Cleave told me Remus is there on pack business, so I figured when it's done he'll drop by Will's and we can spend my day off together before—you know—moonrise."

"What if he doesn't visit?"

"Lillie and I go shopping for Boxing Day sales."

"Somehow I doubt that."

She took a gamble. "Whatever I do, your hands are clean."

"Or they appear to be."

"Same thing to Greyback."

Dix smiled faintly as he told her the address.

 

At the Inverness station, the security troll glanced up from his desk when she exited the Floo. Tonks waved. Rock trolls didn't have expressive features, but his face became less stony. She impulsively conjured a red carnation and handed it to him. "Merry Christmas. I hope it's tasty."

He ate it and belched.

She took that as a compliment.

A bouquet of red carnations was a lot harder to conjure, especially with the cab driver offering non-stop advice. Tonks ended up with pink petals edged in red.

"Too much swishing," the cabbie said.

Tonks looked out the window. "Are we there yet?"

"You sound like my daughter." The cabbie started talking about his kids.

Tonks wondered if Remus was forced to sleep in chains, or if he'd been drugged. The thought of him lying unconscious, stripped of his coat and the hidden communication mirror twisted her stomach.

The cab jerked to a halt beside a nondescript block of flats. Tonks paid the fare and hopped out. There was no lift, so she took the stairs two at a time and was out of breath by the time she reached the third floor. She knocked on the door and gasped out, "Wotcher," when it opened.

Will's light green eyes widened. "How did you know? Delia's Patronus just gave Lillie the message." He waved her into the flat.

The only seating in the lounge was the black futon brought from Salford. Lillie huddled in a fuzzy purple blanket at one end. She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, gods!" Her voice was choked. "Mum's afraid the pack will kill him!"

"No," Will said, "You told me she said they're going to punish him for buying Wolfsbane Potion."

"That's what Greyback said—don't you get it?" Lillie cried. "She told me to find Nym! Mum wouldn't do that if she didn't fear for his life!"

Tonks shook her head. "Wait a minute. How were you supposed to find me?"

Will and Lillie traded a "you tell her" look.

Lillie said, "You had something on me, so Mum wanted something on you. She got Kemp to go around to enquiry agencies in London and ask for Nym. The receptionist at the Blue Moon told him Nymphadora Tonks had gone back to full-time Auror work."

"Bubbles," Tonks said. "Her name is Bubbles, and I'm Tonks. Just Tonks." She tried to smile, although she felt like an idiot for assuming if she told Uncle Morty to pretend she'd never worked there, he'd pass the word along to Bubbles. "You can still call me Nym if you want."

"What are you going to do?" Lillie asked in a small voice.

"I'm not going to call in the Ministry if that's what you're worried about," Tonks replied. "I'll rescue Remus myself."

Will said, "Kemp was punished, and no one tried to kill him. If you take the professor out of there, he'll be banned. No pack will ever take him."

"I'm his pack," Tonks said, "And I won't risk his life—not for anything."

"What about your own life?" Will asked.

"I have a penchant for danger," she said dryly, "and a lot to do, so if you'll give me an address, a general location, a map—anything you can—I'll be on my way."

Will Summoned parchment and quill. "Tell the professor that whatever happens, we'll always be his friends."

"We'll always be your friends too," Lillie said. She jumped up to throw her arms around Tonks.

Tonks returned the hug. "Ta, thanks." With a rueful laugh, she gave Lillie the forgotten bouquet.

Will sketched the warehouse from what details Frank had given him in the few letters he'd sent. He didn't know the exact address, but from the location and the description, Tonks knew she could find it.

It was what to do once she got there that was the problem.

She Apparated back to the Inverness Floo Station and travelled directly to the Hog's Head. There was a lone customer in the pub. Annis Black. Annis and the barman talked in hushed voices. They made an interesting couple.

Tonks put up her hood and tried to sneak past them.

Annis called out, "Tonight the wolf in my dream was an astral spirit who howled for his mate."

Tonks said, "If he comes back, tell him I'll be there soon."

 

If Snape was surprised to find her on his doorstep at one in the morning, he didn't show it. "To what do I owe this intrusion?"

He was dressed in black wizard robes and didn't look sleepy. That was a hopeful sign. Maybe he'd been up reading a book on hexes or Dark Arts and was in a good mood—or as good a mood as someone like him was capable of. "Are you brewing a potion?" she asked. "If you need to watch a cauldron we can talk in—"

"No."

"Do you have . . . company?" She tried not to grimace at the mental image of Poppy Pomfrey in lingerie.

Snape curled his lip. "No."

"Then may I come inside and talk to you? I need help."

"Go to Dumbledore."

"I don't want his help!" she shouted. "I want yours, and I'll do just about anything for it, so please have the damned decency to invite me in and listen to what I have to say!"

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Just about."

"Then by all means," he said silkily, "come in."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If some readers thought Snape's been in the story so much because this writer has a soft spot for him, that's true, :D but he is useful as well as decorative. The "knife-throwing sidekick" line came from Ron throwing his sprout knife at Fred earlier in ch 16 of HBP.


	29. Waiting in the Night

 

 

Inside Snape's quarters, two chairs stood at opposite ends of the table in the centre of the book-filled room. Two, when there was usually one. The snarky git had planned to hear her out even before she'd made wild promises.

The door shut with a soft click. "What would Lupin say if he knew you approached me instead of Dumbledore?"

She remained standing. "Doesn't matter. He's in trouble, and I'm going to get him out of it."

"Lupin understood the risks."

"And he's prepared to take the punishment for—doing something I can't tell you about." She shook her hand to get rid of the pins and needles that started pricking when she'd almost divulged pack secrets. Tonks dug her fingernails into her palms to keep composure. "Some of the werewolves are afraid Greyback means to kill him."

"All the more reason to go to Dumbledore."

"I have no proof," she said tightly. "Dumbledore  _sent_ Remus on this mission. What if he told me not to interfere? To trust things will work out?"

"What if he did?"

"I'd tell him to bugger off."

Thin lips twitched upwards at the corners. "I imagine you would."

"So will you help me? It'll be worth your while."

"Define  _worth my while."_

Tonks glanced around the room. "Is there a drinks cabinet?"

A decanter and a glass appeared on the table.

"Ta, thanks." She dumped Firewhisky into the glass and took a gulp. The sting brought tears to her eyes. She coughed. "Water!"

" _Aguamenti._ "

The glass refilled with water. "Sorry," Tonks said between sips. "Too much bottled courage." After a pause, she said, "I'm not asking you to help directly."

"You failed to answer my question."

That was because she didn't have any answers. She was making things up as she went along. Tonks said, "Tell me what you need."

"Nothing."

"Fine. I'll tell you what I need," she said. "We'll work from there." She took a seat and drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. "I don't want to fight the pack. I want to go in, get Remus, get out, and make sure they can't follow."

"You require an incapacitating agent."

Tonks snapped her fingers. "Knockout gas! I read about it in, uh." She hesitated to admit where.

"Muggle fiction?"

She pretended not to notice his sneer. "Is there a magical counterpart?"

"Yes." He retrieved a tome from a high bookshelf that looked old and well used. " _Animo Linqui_  Potion in the gaseous state, held within a glass sphere." He scanned a page. "You intend to drop the sphere into a chamber to render the wolves unconscious."

"I was thinking humans, actually."

"Impossible. This isn't a solution for boils _. Animo Linqui_  requires twelve hours to reach potency."

Twelve hours! The sun would set around three o'clock. There was barely enough time. "You don't have any on hand?"

Snape gave her a speaking look.

"All right," she said, "You brew it, I'll owe you." That sounded ominous. A deal with the devil as her Gran would say. She tried to think positive. Since it wouldn't be ready until moonrise, "At least they'll all be in the warehouse," she said. "I won't have to worry about guards or someone being upstairs instead of on the ground floor. I can use a Featherlight Spell on Remus and levitate him out of there."

Snape re-shelved the book.

His silence made Tonks nervous. "I have the day off," she said. "I'll help. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"I work alone."

Always? She refused to believe he'd never had a partner or friend of any kind. In a flash of desperate inspiration, she said, "There's got to be someone you wouldn't mind hanging round. I could change my appearance. Whisper instead of talk—like I have a sore throat."

"Your metamorphosing—"

"An Appearance Charm will work if you're the one casting it." She stretched out her fingers. "All I have to do is look at my hands, whatever shape they are, and I can almost  _become_ the person. See for yourself."

"I told you before, no widening of the eyes is necessary." Snape's gaze pierced her mind. Images rose to the surface.

_She was a grandfather with a boyish smile . . . an aristocratic Malfoy . . . a showgirl . . . a wife making lunch for her husband._

Snape broke eye contact. "You impersonated Lucius Malfoy?"

"His pimp cane helped."

"Who was that man at the end?"

"Andrew Hopkins. He gave me the book his wife illustrated for Remus's mother. To thank him, I made lunch."

"You pretended to be his dead wife."

"I wasn't pretending," she said. "I was graceful, serene—I was Anne." She didn't know how else to put it.

Snape conjured a glass and fixed himself a drink. "If I accept this offer, I will still expect your aid in the future."

She had no problem with being helpful, even if it meant another trip into the Forbidden Forest. "Anything that isn't illegal, immoral, or unethical," she said. "I'll give a Witch's Handshake on it."

He took her hand; noticed her flinch in anticipation. "You've done this before."

"Yeah, it was so much fun I—Aaahhh!" She hated the dagger-stabbing-hand sensation.

Snape released her fingers and poured another drink. "A final stipulation. Non-negotiable. You will tell no one of our agreement, reveal nothing of what has or will transpire in these chambers."

"Of course." He was a Slytherin. He believed in self-preservation, not chivalry. It was in his best interest that Dumbledore never find out.

Hers, too, with an added benefit: she wouldn't have to tell Remus what she'd done to get the knockout gas.  _Devilishly convenient,_ she could hear her Gran say. Tonks was determined. _Better the devil I know_. She said, "If you let me borrow a set of robes, they'll be sure to fit . . . whomever . . .."

"Indeed." Snape touched a shelf that swung backward to expose a doorway. "You will find robes, but no mirrors in my quarters. Call out and I will cast the charm."

She wondered what a medi-shrink would say about a man who didn't own a mirror. He hated himself, or had too many bad hair days? "I only need to see the hands," she said.

 

The bedroom was Spartan in the extreme. There was a narrow bed, a mahogany wardrobe, and a single, ironbound trunk. No rugs warmed the stone floor. The only decorative elements were pair of silver wall sconces on either side of the bed. The rest of the walls were bare.

She was the first woman to step foot in there, she would bet every Galleon she had on it. The room screamed celibate ascetic.

The contents of the wardrobe were another matter. _Wow._ Tonks took in the array of tailored robes. _Professor Snarky has more clothes than I do._

Plain black robes caught her eye. Were they Snape's old student robes? If they were, he was a worse clothing pack rat than she was. Tonks stripped to her knickers and put them on. They were the most suitable for potion making.

She called out, "Ready!"

It was as if a cold finger trailed down her spine. Tonks shuddered and looked at her hands.

_I'm young_. The skin was smooth and pale. Elegant fingers, not long, but slender. The fingernails were short and unpolished. _I'm practical and capable._ She ran a hand through "her" long hair and pulled a length forward. The colour was dark red. _I'm strong-willed_. She hiked the robes up to assess legs and feet. They matched the fingers, slender, average length, and pretty.

"You said you only needed to see your hands."

She let the robes drop to the floor. "They're too long, Sev," she whispered.

He tensed.

For an instant, she thought she'd misread the situation, that the girl with red hair wasn't a friend from Hogwarts days—someone who could shorten his name without being hexed for it.

Then Snape shrugged. "I'll transfigure them."

"Thanks."

"You should wear shoes," he said when he was done.

Her current persona didn't seem the combat boots type. "My socks are warm."

"Very well." He spun on his heel and returned to the library.

Instead of Firewhisky, equipment stood on the table. There were jars of ingredients, a set of scales, silver knives, and a cauldron heating over the blue flames of a magical fire. Instinctively, she held her hair back with one hand and reached into a robe pocket with the other. She pulled out a ribbon.

"I . . .." Snape trailed off into silence.

Tonks sympathised. What could he say—I stole your hair ribbon? The fact that it had remained in his pocket spoke volumes. She said softly, "You found it. Thank you." She glanced down at the strip of emerald-green velvet.

"It matches your eyes."

There was tenderness in his voice. Oh, Merlin, Snape had loved the stupid witch, and she'd been oblivious. Tonks thought of Jerry and blinked back tears. Maybe the girl had been wilfully blind, just like her. She tied back her hair, determined not to let the memory of this friendship be ruined. "That's why it's my favourite," she said lightly. She walked over to the table and picked up a knife. "Tell me about the potion we're making."

He glided over to join her. "The name is  _Animo Linqui."_

They worked together smoothly, with Snape measuring and adding the ingredients she prepared. Tonks never faltered or had to ask "Sev" to repeat any part of his instructions. It was as if she had borrowed the girl's intuitive grasp of potions making along with her appearance.

"How often do we stir?" she asked when the potion simmered over low heat.

"Every hour. If you would care to rest—"

"I'm not sleepy." She was, but sleeping in Snape's bed was a line Tonks refused to cross. She would take naps in the chair.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Food would keep her awake. She nodded.

"I'll go to the kitchen."

He was out the door before she could tell him not to go to any trouble, that any snack he had in his rooms would be fine. Jerry had done the same, many times. Tonks sighed and decided to get in a catnap.

She didn't realise she'd fallen asleep until a hand shook her awake. "Time to stir?" she mumbled. She opened her eyes and saw black—the black of Snape's robes. She was lying on her side on his bed. "What time is it?"

"Two o'clock."

Hades. The potion hadn't begun simmering until two in the morning. If it was two in the afternoon, she had slept for twelve hours. How?

_You know how,_ a little voice whispered in the back of her mind.  _Snape used a Sleep Charm._

She didn't think for a moment he'd done it out of base motives. There was purity—strange as that sounded—in his regard for the girl. It was easy to imagine him carrying her into the room and then casting a spell to ensure she wouldn't wake when he touched her hair, stroked her cheek, and pretended illusion was reality.

Her throat clogged with tears Snape would hex her for if she let them fall. The last thing he wanted was pity.

"The  _Animo Linqui_ is contained within three spheres," Snape said. "That number should be more than sufficient." His tone was brisk, impersonal. "A meal will be delivered shortly."

She looked at her hand. The fingers were longer than the red-haired girl's had been, with nails painted black. She whispered, "You didn't want to say goodbye?"

"Never."

Oh gods, she was losing it. Tonks rolled off the bed. "I'm going to take a shower." She made it into the bathroom and turned on the water before she broke down. Bloody effing Hades, why did life have to be so sad?

She released a shuddery breath and looked around for soap. It was next to a flagon of shampoo on a ledge tiled to resemble a python curled up on a tree limb. On the floor, mosaic yellow-bellied sea snakes swam in a turquoise ocean. The wall tiles portrayed flying snakes. _I'm starting to sense a theme_. She picked up the shampoo. During her schooldays, rumour had it that Snape used a potion to slick down his hair because it was naturally frizzy. One day in Potions, Tonks drew a cartoon of Snape with an afro that sent her friend Julia into a fit of giggles, earning them both detentions.

She felt her hair after she dried off. The strands felt clean, not oily. Too bad she couldn't tell Julia. In the bedroom, her jumper, jeans, and cloak weren't stacked on the trunk where she'd left them. She yelled, "Hey, where'd you put my clothes?"

In the next room, someone gasped. It was a feminine sound.

Snape's voice travelled through the doorway. "In the wardrobe next to your rucksack."

Tonks opened the door and lifted out a black rucksack. Three glass spheres filled with yellow vapour were inside, cushioned by a substance that resembled blue candyfloss. Her stomach rumbled.

She dressed and brought the rucksack with her into the library. The table was set for two, no cauldron or visitor in sight. "I almost ate some of the packing material, I'm so hungry," she said. "It looks like candyfloss."

"It's lethal," Snape replied.

"I guessed that." She placed the rucksack beside her chair. "Thank you for everything."

Snape waved her toward the food. "Eat."

Tonks sat and wolfed down a chicken sandwich and half a dozen strawberries. "Was that Pomfrey I heard gasping in shock?"

"Yes."

He didn't divulge details so she didn't ask for any. She had bigger concerns. "How long will it take for the knockout gas to work?"

" _Animo Linqui_ is instantaneous."

"How long does unconsciousness last?"

"There has been no animal testing."

Great. He didn't know. "I'll follow it with a round of  _Incarcerous_ ," she said.

"Prudent."

"Well, I'd better be going," she said. "It's almost moonrise." She picked up the rucksack. "Wish me luck."

Snape arched a brow.

Tonks rolled her eyes. Right. He thought the only good werewolf was a dead one. Prejudiced git. She said on her way out the door, "Fine, but if I don't come back, you don't collect."

"I'll collect."

Tonks kept walking. Somehow, his confident tone encouraged more than well wishes.

 

She left the castle and made a trip to the Shrieking Shack before strolling into Hamish's sport shop. "Hullo!" she said. "Happy Boxing Day!"

Hamish acted surprised to see her. "I heard you were ill.”

My, gossip travelled fast. Tonks winked. "I'm taking a mental health break." She jerked her head toward a selection of holdalls. "Any of those enchanted? I need one that can stretch to—oh—a metre's width and two metres in length."

"The  _Atlas Telamon_ is advertised to hold an entire Quidditch team's kit."

"Not the sky?"

Hamish smiled at the reference to Greek mythology. "It's a titan among holdalls, though, and it's wheeled."

"Sold," she said.

 

It was difficult to mask her impatience when Hamish took his time ringing up her purchase and clipping off the manufacturer and sales tags. The sky grew darker by the minute. Soon the moon would be full.

Tonks Apparated from the street outside the shop to the entrance of the Hog's Head and pushed her way through the crowd to reach the Floo. At Inverness Station, she waved to the security troll and hurried outside. She hopped into a Squire Cab and told the driver where she wanted to go.

If he thought she was crazy for wanting to drive around an area until she recognised her destination, the cabbie didn't show it. He nodded and pulled away from the kerb.

The rundown industrial estate Will had directed her matched Remus's description perfectly: a home for the forsaken. Some of the warehouses appeared structurally unsound. Broken glass and graffiti marked others. Between two buildings, Tonks glimpsed boarded up windows. Her heart jolted. "Stop here," she said.

"You sure, lady?"

She handed over the fare. "As I'll ever be."

Tonks held her wand at the ready as she approached the warehouse. The area looked deserted. Everyone was inside, getting furry. She gripped the rucksack tightly and cast a levitation spell.

There was no skylight on the roof, so she "drew" a large square with her wand and cried, " _Evanesco_." A hole appeared. She crouched down and peered into the warehouse. The only light came from enchanted torches on the walls, but it was enough for her to see the pack surrounding a wolf muzzled and bound with chains. They milled around but didn't attack. Were they toying with him? Waiting for their leader to give the signal? "Hang on, baby," she said.

A wolf with silvery fur lifted his head. His lips drew back in a snarl.

Greyback! Tonks aimed a glass sphere at his head. Her throw fell short. The breaking glass startled the wolves; they leapt back and then padded forward, sniffing the yellow gas. "That's it, breathe it in." She dropped another sphere.

Within seconds, every wolf had fallen to the ground. Tonks waited until the gas dissipated, hooked the straps of the rucksack over her shoulders, and jumped. A Supergravity Spell slowed her momentum. She floated down to the floor and aimed her wand, casting an  _Incarcerous_ at each wolf. When she reached Greyback, Tonks bound him and then cried, " _Repello Lupis_!"

His body flew across the room to crash against the wall. She resisted the urge to kick his skull in.

Remus wasn't chained to the floor, so she only had to cast a Featherlight Spell in order to move his body. She unfolded the holdall, patting the black mesh at the top. "It's to let clothes breathe," she told her unconscious sweetie. "I figured it would work for wolves too."

Tonks unzipped the holdall and carried Remus over. She slid him into the bag on his side, carefully folding his tail so the fur wouldn't be caught in the zipper. She kissed his muzzle through the mesh. "Comfy? Let's go."

Levitating with a bulky holdall in her arms was tricky, but she managed. Apparating was easier. She wanted to take Remus away from Inverness with all her heart.

 

Remus's chains made clink-clink-clink sounds as she wheeled the holdall up the steps to the Floo station. Once inside, there was only the odd rattle. "Sports equipment," she told the security troll when he leaned forward to eye her bag. "My wizard scout troop is going to be over the moon."

The troll leaned back.

Tonks waggled her fingers in parting and strolled toward the Floo, grateful she wouldn't have to try to toss her last knockout sphere and make a mad dash while holding her breath. She carried Remus into the Floo by his middle. It felt like she was hugging a big stuffed animal. She dropped the Floo Powder and spoke her destination.

The London Floo station was hectic and noisy. She sighed contentedly and wheeled the holdall outside.

Grimmauld Place remained cheerfully inviting as ever. Tonks released the wards and carried Remus over the threshold. "Next time, you carry me," she said.

The body in her arms shifted.

Tonks jogged for the stairs. _Don't wake up yet, don't wake up_. She climbed the steps as fast as possible and hurriedly pulled her love into the attic, shrugged off the rucksack, and used the chalk and candles from the Shrieking Shack to form a containment circle. Part of her wanted to save the holdall, but caution won out. She cast a Vanishing Spell.

Freed, the wolf raised his head.

Ensnared by his eyes, Tonks stepped over the line of chalk.

 

 

Remus awoke from a dream of wolves to find Nymphadora smiling down at him. His head was resting in her lap. "Am I still dreaming?" he asked groggily.

She bent down to kiss him. "No. We're at Grimmauld Place. You're safe."

He rubbed a hand across his face. "Safe . . . how . . .?" His brain didn't seem to want to function.

"I found out where you were, picked up some knockout gas, dropped it through a hole in a roof and rescued you." She smoothed his hair back. "Your wolf didn't like being carted around in a holdall, but he forgave me."

Nymphadora's breezy tone didn't match the apprehension in her eyes. Remus sat up and marshalled his thoughts.

_The dream . . . wolves running through the forest . . . wolves . . .._

Realisation sank in. His mission was over. Greyback would see to that. Remus would be branded a coward and an outcast. No pack in Britain would listen to a word he had to say ever again. Nymphadora had negated every positive inroad he’d made in Salford and Inverness. He said, "I didn't ask to be rescued."

"Yes, you did. You sent me your wand."

"For safe-keeping."

"Because you were in trouble and couldn't use your mirror." Her eyes were large and pleading. "I couldn't sit in my room and do nothing. I went to Salford."

"Then Dix will know it was you." Remus took Nymphadora's hands. " _Greyback_ will know."

Her fingers tightened around his. "No one will tell him anything. They're too afraid."

He gently pulled his hands away. "I didn't use the mirror because I gave my word that I would accept the consequences of my actions." He wondered if she had any idea what she'd done. "You made me break my word."

Nymphadora's lips trembled. "Greyback planned to kill you."

"I've survived his punishment before."

"This time was different!"

Remus shook his head. "You acted rashly." He rose to his feet, feeling old and tired. "I have to tell Dumbledore," he said. "Unless you—" His momentary hope was dashed by her defiant expression.

"I couldn't trust him," she said. "Not with your life."

"Who did you trust?" The words were said unthinkingly, out of a suspicion that didn't fully take shape until Nymphadora dropped her gaze. "Where did you  _pick up_  knockout gas?"

She bit her lip. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me." Remus turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

The unsteady whisper tugged at his heartstrings until Remus hardened his resolve. "I'm going to tell the man whose trust has meant everything to me that once again, I have disappointed him," he said. "I'm going to find a way to make things right."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, the angst! Darkness before the light, yadda, yadda, yadda. I tried to include lighter moments, but I still felt the need for chocolate after I was done.
> 
> Better the devil you know than the devil you don't is a saying that means it's better to deal with someone or something you are familiar with and know, even if they aren't ideal, than take a risk with an unknown person or thing. If some readers were icked out by the thought of Tonks being Lily for Snape, blame Jo. She's the one that shoved an eternal torch in his hand! :D
> 
> Atlas Telamon means "enduring Atlas" (if she hadn't vanished the holdall, it would've lasted forever, heh). Atlas is shown as holding a celestial sphere, which can give the impression he was forced to hold the earth, but actually it was the sky.


	30. Tension in Waiting

 

 

Dumbledore didn't react the way Remus had feared. He wasn't angry or upset.

He shrugged.

"The mission was always a long shot, undertaken at great odds in the hope of commensurate reward." Dumbledore glanced at the teapot on the desk. It rose into the air and poured tea without spilling a drop. "You accomplished more than I expected, and Nymphadora's actions, while hasty, were not entirely ill-advised."

Remus declined milk and sugar. Black, without sweetener, suited his present frame of mind. "I survived punishment before."

"You were younger, and Fenrir Greyback still believed you could be moulded into his image." With a flick of a finger, Dumbledore levitated a third cube of sugar to his teacup. "I highly doubt Fenrir holds further delusions on that score." His eyes twinkled. "At least not once he awoke to find you missing."

"I didn't want to leave," Remus said. "I wanted to teach werewolves to think for themselves."

"The best academics are quiet subversives; nothing would change in their subjects if they were not—something I learned from Professor Scattergood, my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Dumbledore smiled. "You taught them. Never doubt it."

Remus nodded, yet inwardly doubted everything from his teaching ability to his judgment: especially when, after leaving the Headmaster’s office, he went to the dungeons instead of Hogsmeade.

 

Severus took so long to answer the door; Remus had turned to leave.

"Yes?" The inquiry rang with the distaste of a man confronted by a door-to-door salesperson.

Remus was blunt. "Did you help Nymphadora?"

"In what way?"

"If you did, you know exactly in what way," Remus said tightly.

Severus's expression was inscrutable. "Ask her yourself."

"I did."

"She didn't tell you?"

"No." It pained Remus to admit it.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Then you came here to—what? Accuse me of  _helpfulness?"_

"You had no right to bypass Dumbledore," Remus said with deliberate calm. "No right to—"

"Is there a point to this rambling?" Severus cut in. "I have a right to spend my holiday as I see fit, and I do not choose to waste time listening to you."

Remus took a deep breath to keep his temper in check and detected an unusual—yet familiar—bittersweet scent. "Are you brewing a potion?"

"No."

"It's very pungent." Remus remembered Nymphadora bending down to kiss him. Her hair exuded a scent very different from her usual fragrances: sage instead of fruit or flowers. There had to be a logical explanation for the coincidence. "Is it your shampoo?" he asked. "Does the apothecary stock it in the village?" Nymphadora was fond of bargains.

"I make my own. Private formula."

The taunting words echoed in Remus's mind. There was no coincidence. Nymphadora had used Severus's  _private formula_ shampoo. She’d stood naked in his shower.

He turned on his heel and walked away.

A huffing sound echoed against stone.

Severus was laughing.

 

Once Remus left school grounds, he Apparated to Nymphadora's room. She sat on the bed hugging a pillow to her chest.

When she saw him, her face lit up. "Remus!"

"Meet me at the Shrieking Shack.” He Apparated.

He was leaning a shoulder against the wall, contemplating the circle drawn in chalk on the floorboards when Nymphadora burst into the first-floor bedroom. The only light shone through the cracks between the planks nailed across the windows, but it was more than enough for him to see the apprehension on her face.

"What did Dumbledore say? I ruined some grand scheme, didn't I?"

"The mission was never more than a gamble," Remus said. "He's content that I accomplished more than he thought I would."

"But You-Know-Who plans to use the werewolves—"

"As a threat, nothing more."

She crossed the room to hug him. "I'm sorry."

The scent of her hair kept Remus from holding Nymphadora tight and letting the warmth of her body sink into his. He said, "I also talked to Severus."

"You did? Why?"

If he were a Legilimens, what would he see beyond the wariness in her eyes? "He's the one you went to, isn't he?"

Her gaze pleaded for understanding. "I can't say."

"Was that a condition? You had to pledge not to tell?"

"I can't say. You're safe now. That's all that matters."

Remus took her face in his hands. "It matters what you did to receive help. What payment you gave."

"I did nothing illegal, immoral, or unethical."

The terms of her pact with Severus, Remus presumed. If he was supposed to be reassured, he wasn't. "According to whom?" he asked. "Whose morals? Whose ethics?"

"Mine." Her tone was hopeful instead of confident.

Remus kissed her forehead. "Nymphadora, Nymphadora . . . what have you done?"

Her smile was lopsided. "I rescued you."

"You ruined the mission."

"But Dumbledore said—"

"He wasn't there, he doesn't understand. Even as Omega, I would have made a difference."

"You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough."

She reached up and kissed the corner of his lips. "It was. You'll see."

A volatile mix of desire, frustration, and possessiveness drove Remus to cover her mouth in a bruising kiss. Part of him expected her to stiffen and pull away. His pulse sped up when Nymphadora wriggled closer.

He was so tempted. "Not like this." Even to his ears, the protest was half-hearted.

Her hands caressed boldly. "The floor is comfort-charmed."

Remus kissed her passionately, giving in to the primal need to claim his mate.

Only after his heart rate slowed and his body cooled did Remus realise exactly where they had made love. "We're inside the circle of protection."

Snuggled against his side, Nymphadora said, "It's the only dust-free space in the room."

"It was drawn to contain an animal." The things they'd done flashed into Remus's mind. He sat up and raked a hand through his hair. "And I took you like one."

Nymphadora rose to her knees beside him. "I was with you all the way, and I love your animal side."

"I know." That was the joy and the hell of it. He draped his cloak around her shoulders and rose to gather his clothes.

Nymphadora followed his lead and dressed. "Come to my room," she said. "I'll find some food and we can talk."

"Dumbledore advised me to go to Grimmauld Place and lay low. I told him I'd leave straightaway." He smiled mirthlessly. "Another promise I've broken."

"He had to have known you would see me first. He's not  _that_ old. Anyway," she said, "it's just a few hours. Where's the harm?"

Remus tied a shoelace stretched to the point of fraying: a symbol of his emotions. "I don't have many possessions," he said, "but I do have honour, and every time I break my word I do irreparable damage." He took his cloak and put it on, unable to speak further.

A tear slipped down Nymphadora's cheek. "I'm sorry."

He didn't doubt her sincerity, that she was distressed to have caused pain. What she failed to understand was how deeply her actions affected him. She put love above everything. "I have to go.”

She bit her lip. "Will you use your mirror later?"

Remus hesitated. He didn't want to talk about things that couldn't be changed.

"At least to say goodnight." Her voice trembled.

He nodded and left.

 

Muffled sobs followed Remus like vengeful spirits, chasing him from the house and lingering in his thoughts as he travelled to London. Once inside the Grim Old Place, as Sirius had called it, a legion of memories took over the haunting.

_Nymphadora sprawled on the floor of the entry after she knocked over the umbrella stand . . . Sirius and Cami cuddled on the sofa in the drawing room . . . Kreacher muttering in the shadows . . . Harry and Ron assisting him to repair the Grandfather clock . . . Buckbeak craning his neck to peer into the master bathroom when Remus and Nymphadora splashed water out of the tub . . . members of The Order assembled at the kitchen table . . .._

He roamed the house from basement to attic, remembering the past, too hollow and numb to cry. Remus didn't bother to look for food. He wasn't hungry. He was tired, a weariness of soul as much as body. The library had a fireplace to provide warmth and books to distract his mind so he decided to camp out on the sofa.

Remus slept until a man's acerbic voice jolted him awake.

"I  _said_ I have other things to do than travel hither and fro between portraits, so if you would have the decency to rouse from your stupor, I shall impart the message which was foisted upon me and be gone."

Remus sat up, disoriented. Aside from magical flames in the fireplace, the room was dark. He used a spell to light the illumination orbs in the room and looked at the clock on the mantel. It was past nine. He had slept through the day and into the night.

He looked at the painting of castle ruins above the mantel. In the foreground, a green robed wizard with a pointy beard glared at him. "Are you coherent, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus rubbed his eyes. They were dry and gritty. "Semi," he said.

"That is more than several of your former colleagues can boast." The wizard curled his lip. "Standards have lowered since my days as Headmaster."

Recognition stirred. "You're Phineas Nigellus Black."

"Lowered  _grievously_ ," Phineas muttered before saying, "Albus Dumbledore bids me to inform you that Kreacher has delivered supplies to the kitchen, and if you desire to leave the premises, it would be wise to use an Appearance Charm." He promptly vanished from the painting.

Remus's stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten all day, but there was something he had to do. He retrieved the communication mirror from his pocket.

Nymphadora's face appeared instantly. "I packed the clothes you'd stored in my trunk with a few books and your journal. Dumbledore said Kreacher would deliver the bag with the food he was bringing from the kitchens." She looked at him anxiously. "Did you get everything?"

"I haven't checked," he said. "I slept until a few minutes ago." Remus noticed that her eyes were shiny. Complexion Charms only removed the effects of tears. They couldn't ward off new ones. He said, "Did Dumbledore ask questions about the rescue?"

"Yes, but I didn't answer. He wasn't pleased, and I wasn't offered a toffee." She laughed shortly. "Afterwards, I patrolled the school and every portrait stared at me in disapproval."

"How did you explain that to Jerry?"

"I didn't," she said.

Something was off. "He wasn't curious?"

"He wasn't there."

Remus's stomach chose that moment to growl so loudly Nymphadora heard it.

She said, "You need to eat, and I have to patrol at the crack of dawn so I'll say goodnight. I love you."

Her voice was soft, almost fearful. Did she worry he wouldn't say the words in return? "I love you," he said. "Sweet dreams."

 

 

Tonks placed the communication mirror beneath her pillow and used a spell to darken the illumination orb on the bedside table. She hugged Remus's pillow and closed her eyes.

_He loves me, he smiled at me, he'll forgive me._ She silently chanted the words like a mantra.

It didn't help her sleep.

What if he found out about Jerry? Would Remus believe that she hadn't told him because it hadn't been important compared to everything else that was going on, or would he think she was hiding yet another secret? "I'll tell you," Tonks whispered, "the next time we talk." She clutched the pillow tighter. "I'll make things right."

She didn't get the chance. The next evening Remus was distracted, brusque. He had decided to inventory the library to see if any of the books could be of use to help the Order. His mind was on his task.

"My new mission," he said wryly. "It's going to be a labour of Hercules."

"Want some help? Dawlish might—"

"Perhaps after I've finished sorting," Remus said. "I'll give you a progress report each night."

It was painfully obvious that he wanted space, and he wanted to be the one who decided when they would see each other. Tonks forced a smile. For someone who tried to repress his animal nature, Remus was acting like his wolf, expecting her to submit to his dominance.

Over the next week, she stayed in her room each night; mirror perched on the bed beside her as she waited to hear Remus's voice call her name. She felt like a Muggle teenager hovering near the telephone, willing it to ring.

She went through bottles of nail varnish and every magazine and paperback in the apothecary shop, painting her nails a different colour every day and reading to fill the hours. Remus was so preoccupied; she wondered how he remembered to keep in touch. When he grew sleepy?

He brought her up to date on his progress, named the books he planned to include in the reference library, asked her how her day had gone, and then said goodnight. The superficial chats weren't the kind that led to heart-to-heart conversation. Tonks tried her best to be cheerful and lovingly supportive, to show that she respected his need to contribute and be useful. She told herself the emotional distance between them was temporary, and when he came to her or she visited him, that was when they would connect and share.

Ten days after Remus walked out of the Shrieking Shack, he surprised Tonks by contacting her during her afternoon patrol of the school.

She ducked behind the statue of David the Daft, out of the way of students hurrying to Arithmancy. "Wotcher, love!" She grinned down at the mirror. Was today the day he was coming to see her?

Remus said, "I went for a walk this morning along our old running path."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. He wasn't smiling.

"I saw Jerry," he said.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._  "Are you sure?"

"He was running with Cami."

"That's good," she said. "I'm glad they have each other as friends."

Remus's gaze was searching. "Why didn't you tell me Jerry transferred back to London?"

Oh, Merlin, this was not the way she'd planned to tell him. What could she say to make him understand? "You had so much to deal with I didn't want you to worry."

His jaw tightened.

"I wasn't hiding an affair," she said. "I planned to tell you—"

"When?"

"The day I asked you to come to my room and talk."

Remus looked sceptical. "We talk every night."

Frustration sharpened her voice. "By mirror, about books and patrols, and half the time I wonder if you're even listening to me! It's not the same! It isn't in person!"

At that moment, on the other side of the statue, a male voice said, "All right, that's enough. Stop fighting and go to class before you earn detention."

Tonks called out, "Prefect Whoever-You-Are, I'm not a student, and if you don't mind your own business, I'll have Professor Snape give  _you_  detention—for the rest of the year!"

"Auror Tonks! Beg pardon." Footsteps scurried away.

Remus said, "You've given the boy the wrong impression. He believes you're quarrelling with Severus."

"Stars and stones, I didn't mean to." She thought of Jerry and sighed. "I never mean to."

"I believe that."

"But you're still angry."

"I—I don't know exactly what I feel."

Tonks's stomach did another free fall. "You talked to Jerry?"

"I followed them," Remus said, "and when they stopped to stretch—" His lips turned down at the corners. "Jerry was quite candid."

A litany of curses ran through her mind. "What did he say?"

"You kissed him."

Tonks gasped. Jerry was supposed to be her friend! "I can't believe he told you that," she said. "I was out of my head. I dreamt you were there."

"And you hurt yourself."

_Ruddy hell!_ "That was an accident, I didn't realise how sharp werewolf claws really are."

"Pomfrey said you could have died."

"I didn't," Tonks said. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Come see for yourself. I'll ask Dawlish for the rest of the day off. We'll work things out."

Remus shook his head. "I need more time."

"At the weekend, then?"

"I'm not sure."

His flat tone scared her. In wolf form, she would have crawled on the floor on her belly whimpering, desperate to appease. "OK. Whatever you need," she said. "I'll volunteer for an extra patrol or something to keep busy." She didn't want to ask, but couldn't stop herself. "Will you still contact me every night?"

His eyes dropped. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "Not for a while."

"But you'll keep the mirror with you. For emergencies." For her, because if he didn't, if he rejected the chance of any possible communication . . ..

"Yes. I'll keep it with me."

 

Tonks sat clutching the mirror, long after it stopped reflecting his face. She felt empty, numb. Eventually, she stood and resumed her patrol. At the end, she walked down to the dungeons.

Students climbed the steps. Freed from their last class of the day, their voices echoed against the stone in a cheerful din that matched the yellow stripes of their scarves and ties. She drifted through them like a wraith through a swarm of bumblebees. A few slanted curious looks her way, but no one spoke to her. Thank Merlin. She had no smiles to give—not even fake ones.

When she entered the dungeon classroom, the teacher looked up from the parchment he was reading. "Yes, Auror Tonks? May I help you?"

She blinked. Why had she come here? Slughorn taught Potions now, not Snape. "I . . . have some free time," she said. "Do you need any assistance?"

Slughorn ran a finger along his silvery moustache. "I do have rather a long list of thank you notes to write—so many former students send me Christmas gifts it takes months to acknowledge them all properly." He languidly waved a hand at the parchment she'd thought a student essay and then pointed to a narrow table at the back of the room. "There are second-years Hair Raising Solutions to be tested. It only requires a drop to determine efficacy."

Tonks moved to a table crowded with flagons and removed the stopper from the first sample. She picked up the dropper. A few seconds later, the fine hair on her arm rose as if by static.

"Quill and parchment are located at the other end of the table," Slughorn called out genially.

She wrote down the name of the student. Pattinson, R. Most likely Richard or Robert, but she couldn't help thinking of another name that began with R. Tears scalded her cheeks as she reached for another potion. "Professor, do I n—need to use a cleaning spell on the dropper between tests?"

"No, my dear."

Tonks cried as silently as possible, but there was no way to disguise sniffs. Before she was halfway done, she heard the scrape of wood against stone. She kept her head down as Slughorn left. He couldn't stand listening to her anymore, and who could blame him? At least he didn't ask her to go. Strange as it was, testing the potions made her feel a little less crappy.

She was about to test the last potion when the sound of creaking caused her to fumble the dropper and accidentally squirt her left eyebrow. Tonks peered upward. The hairs stood on end. "Oh, what the hell." She squirted her right eyebrow and faced the door. "I'm rocking the Professor Sinistra look," she said and froze. The man watching her was Snape, not Slughorn.

"Her brows are not so protuberant." He glided over, flagon in hand.

"Yeah they are," she said. "We'd snigger whenever she'd ask, 'Who can name that star?' She's like a big, stern owl."

The corners of thin lips twitched. "Drink this."

"A Calming Draught?" She downed it. "Why'd Slughorn fetch you to give it to me?"

"He believed the cause of your distress should alleviate it."

"Oh, Merlin, Pomfrey's been gossiping . . . or the ghosts . . . or the elves," Tonks said with a smile. Artificial serenity was almost as good as the real thing. She marked Rathbone, J's success with a flourish. "How do you stand it?" The gossip, the loneliness of separation from the one he loved.

Snape didn't answer and she didn't blame him. It was none of her business. "I'm sorry," Tonks said. She gave a small laugh. "I'm always saying that."

Images flashed before her mind's eye.  _Ducking behind the statue . . . Remus's grave expression . . . her dazed stare reflected in the mirror . . . the mild surprise on Slughorn's face . . ._ Tonks didn't try to look away. She wanted someone to understand how she felt without having to say the words.

The mental slideshow abruptly ended. "Stop," Snape said.

Stop what? Dumping her memories on him? Thinking with her heart instead of her head? Wanting life to be different? "I can't."

Unless it was her imagination—which was entirely possible—Snape's eyes gleamed with pity.

 

Three days passed before Remus used his communication mirror. He might have held out for another day or two if it hadn't been for the dreams. Vivid and increasingly disturbing, he would have interpreted them as repressed longings if he and Nymphadora had been in human form. Instead, they were wolves.

And it was mating season.

On the third night, he awoke gasping, heart pounding. In the darkness of the library, he sat with his head in his hands. If the dream had continued—he refused to think about it. He had to act.

His cloak doubled as an extra blanket. It took but a moment to remove the mirror from a pocket. "Nymphadora."

After a minute, her face appeared. Her smile was sleepy. "Remus, I was just dreaming about you."

His body reacted to the sensual timbre of her voice even as his jaw clenched. "Me or the wolf?"

"You are the wolf," she said. "And when you're furry I'm furry too. I thought you accepted that."

"I thought you would never allow it to be mating season."

Her face flushed pink. "Wolves are affectionate."

"And right before copulation they whip their tails in each other's faces and the female releases hormones—don't tell me that didn't happen," he said when she started to speak. "I smelled it." The excitement that gripped the wolf paralysed the man until the animal started to mount his mate. If Remus hadn't awakened, would dreams of multicoloured werepups have followed?

He recoiled from the mental image. "I don't want any more of those dreams."

"I didn't plan them," she said. "It isn't my fault your wolf wants to be with me more than you do."

Now he was the one confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It hasn't just been dreams," she said. "I've experimented with astral travel." Her lips trembled. "Do you even remember my visits?"

_Remus? Is your spirit awake?_

"Fragments," he said. "Snatches of dreams."

_Reach out. Pull yourself free._

"They were real," she said, "but it's never the man who plays with me beneath the stars." She released a quivering breath. "Your wolf is the part of you that knows nothing is more important than being together."

How could he argue duty and sacrifice against such passionate conviction? Remus said, "It isn't that simple."

"It can be."

"No, it can't," he said. "This war—and my condition—are realities I have to deal with every day. I will never be free."

"Don't say that."

Her eyes filled with tears as if he'd said they could never marry. The instant the thought crossed his mind, heaviness settled onto Remus. He rubbed his chest, pressed the heel of his palm into his skin. It didn't relieve the pressure. "I'm sorry."

"No," she said, "We're—we're different, and we see things differently and that's all right, no couple agrees on everything." She wiped her eyes and gave a wobbly smile. "We'll get through this. I—I'll return the jade Annis gave me for dreaming and give you all the space you need, and you can contact me anytime." She kissed the mirror. "I love you. Goodnight."

"I love you," Remus said, too late. The mirror showed only his reflection.

 

He did his best to fill his hours with reading and long walks whenever he wasn't working on cataloguing, cleaning and reorganising the books. If he dreamed at night, they were the ordinary—sometimes embarrassing—dreams of a man who missed his lover. A few times, on rainy, cold nights, he gave into the need to see Nymphadora's face, but he kept their conversations brief.

On the morning of the full moon, he used the mirror to contact Nymphadora—four days since they'd last spoken. She put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. "Good morning, love. I think I'm going to change sleeping potions. This one leaves me feeling like something a Kneazle dragged in."

"Why are you using a sleeping potion? Didn't you return the jade?"

She slapped her palm to her forehead. "I can't believe I let that slip." Her expression was rueful. "Yeah, I did, but Annis said once two people establish a psychic connection they no longer need a focus, so I—uh—decided to prevent any accidental dream walking."

His conscience stung. "Prolonged use can't be good for you," he said. "If you have any more of that potion, throw it out."

Her smile was like the sunrise, warm and dazzling.

"I'll stop by the apothecary today," Remus said. "Tonight, I'll be the one to use a sleeping potion."

Her smile faltered. "I got permission to spend the night in London," she said. "Does this mean you don't want me to visit?"

"I'll be sleeping," he said gently.

"Then I'll see you when you wake up." She bit her lip. "It's been so long."

Almost a month. He couldn't say no. He was too weak. "All right."

Her face lit up. "I'll get Mrs. McPhee to spell-dye my hair. What colour do you fancy?"

He chuckled. It felt rusty, yet good. "Surprise me."

 

Later, inside the circle of protection drawn on attic floorboards, Remus bound himself in chains and removed the stopper from the flagon of sleeping potion. There were barely enough links in the chain between his wrists to allow him to drink. As he sank to the floor, the image of a wolf rose before his mind's eye. The creature stared at him with a burning gaze. Remus said, "No dreams for you tonight."

The wolf bared his teeth. In his remaining seconds of consciousness, Remus heard a low snarl.

_Soft noises roused the wolf from the depths of slumber. He opened heavy eyes to meet the gaze of his mate in human form. In a heartbeat, he was transported from the cave of dead wood to a bed of leaves in a forest clearing. His mate chuffed a greeting and rubbed her muzzle against his. He remained lying on his side until she took his muzzle in her mouth. Memories surfaced and brought him scrambling to his feet._

_The season was wrong. There should be snow, not falling leaves._

_His mate nuzzled his side and began to groom his fur. He drew in her scent, licking the air. She darted away and trotted back, tail wagging. She wanted to play._

_The wolf barked and ran into the forest. He heard his mate follow as he headed for the place of strangeness. When snow lay on the ground, the place of strangeness held a circle of new grass and warm breezes. Now that the moon had shifted in the sky, the circle might also have shifted into the time of mating._

_He burst through the underbrush and into the clearing. Leaves drifted down from the forest to carpet the ground around a circle of fresh-fallen snow. He leapt into the centre and rolled from side to side like a pup, barking for his mate to join him._

_She remained beyond the circle, crouched down, muzzle buried in her paws._

_He pulled his ears back and squinted. Why did she not obey?_

_His mate whimpered._

_He stuck his ears straight up and bared his teeth._

_Slowly, she crawled forward._

_The moment his mate's paw touched snow, it became hairless._

_He growled._

_She backed away and regained her true form._

_The wolf stood for a moment breathing in the icy air and then joined his mate. Inside the circle, snow melted._

_Across the clearing, snowflakes began to fall._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Professor Scattergood quoted is an actual professor. I found the quote first, looked to see who said it, and couldn't resist using his name. He's an Irish Muggle . . . or so we're led to believe.
> 
> I haven't read the books, but for any Twilight fans (or haters) among my readers, I did indeed use actor names for students. To the end, I will have fun with names!


	31. The End of Waiting

 

Remus jerked awake. Although freed from magical bonds, he remained pinned by the warm softness of his mate. Her cheek pressed against his back, her arm lay across his chest, her leg draped over his thigh. Through his shirt, he felt Nymphadora's kiss. Her hand caressed his chest. He said, "The sleeping potion didn't work."

Her roaming fingers halted. "What do you remember?"

He fixed his gaze on a beam of sunshine across the room. Dust motes whirled in the golden spotlight. "The wolf changed the season."

Nymphadora's arm tightened around him. "Nothing happened. I leapt into the circle. Wolfie wasn't happy, but he got over it. We made up." An unspoken question laced her tone. Would they do the same?

Remus couldn't answer.

She climbed over his body to kneel and look into his face. "Silence is scary, baby. Talk to me. I didn't expect him to open his eyes. It was a shock to me, too, that he remembered the faery ring and that it was supposed to be snowing, but I guess it shouldn't have been, because he's you."

"No, he isn't." Remus sat up and rubbed a hand across his face. "I'm not an animal, and I don't ever want to hear the name  _Wolfie_ again _._ " He looked at Nymphadora and clenched his jaw. "Your hair."

She smiled uncertainly. "You like it? I told Mrs. McFee I wanted to match the colour of your eyes."

"Mine are light brown. It's the wolf who has amber eyes." He could still picture that burning gaze staring him down. Remus shook his head. "This has to stop."

He thought Nymphadora might faint she turned so pale.

"No. I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you." He cupped her cheek. "If I was less selfish, I would have discovered a way to free you from the wolf." Regardless of what Severus said, there had to be a way to weaken the bond if it couldn't be broken.

"I don't want to be free." She hurled herself into his arms, hugging him tight. "I love every part of you."

Including the wolf. Remus closed his eyes to savour the bittersweet joy of holding her. He breathed in the scent of her skin and another, muskier odour.

_Wolfie wasn't happy, but he got over it. We made up._

She had petted the wolf, cuddled next to him.

"I don't have to leave right away," she said. "I'm on afternoon patrol." Nymphadora feathered kisses along his jaw line. "I've missed you so much."

Remus couldn't make love with the wolf's scent on her skin. "I need a shower."

She kissed his mouth in a way that made his body not give a damn who or what she smelled like. "I'll scrub your back," she said, playfully nipping his chin.

_Like a wolf_. Merlin, he had to stop thinking about it. Remus helped Nymphadora to her feet.

Things got so heated in the shower Remus didn't notice the water had run cold until he slumped against Nymphadora and heard her teeth chatter. Only then did it register that the spray pelting his back was icy. He used a charm to shut off the water and reached for a towel. He dried his love's hair, guiltily pleased the colour had faded to brown.

He frowned at pink marks on creamy skin. "These towels shouldn't be rough, old as they are," he said. He kissed the curve of her shoulder. "I wish I knew a fabric softening spell."

"Hey, exfoliation is a crucial step to healthy skin." She paused drying his chest to kiss him. "I prefer snogging to exfoliate lips, though."

Remus had to smile. "Me too."

He heard her stomach rumble and suggested they go out for breakfast. If they stayed at Grimmauld Place, Nymphadora might offer to serve it in bed, and Remus would have to explain why he camped out in the library instead of sleeping upstairs; it was the only place in the house not haunted by memories.

She agreed so easily he wondered if she also felt the weight of the past bearing down. Remus cast an Appearance Charm.

Nymphadora’s eyes widened. After they left the house, she held his hand and asked, "How does that spell work? Do you think of specific facial characteristics?"

"General ones, I suppose. I've never looked in a mirror. Why?"

"Just asking." She swung their hands back and forth like a schoolgirl. "I'm ravenous. Where should we eat? Someplace Muggle? I brought money."

"All right," he said, shooting a covert glance at the nearest window. His reflection was hazy, yet he was able to tell the illusion gave him short brown hair. Nymphadora preferred his hair longer.

A few blocks further, she tugged him over to a small restaurant with a coffeepot painted on the front glass. "Ooh, I like this place. Lemon and mint aren't flavours I'd put together, but as colours they're fab. And all the coffeepots on shelves. Who needs border paper when you've got a collection like that to decorate with?"

The wooden chairs and yellow Formica-topped tables appeared clean. Remus was willing to eat anywhere she liked. "Shall we give it a try?"

"Yes, we shall," she said, in an impishly aristocratic tone. "Do you suppose they have smoked haddock with poached egg and mustard sauce, dahling?"

"No, but they're guaranteed to serve fried eggs with grilled bacon and tomato."

"Lovely." She used her cloak to bob a curtsey when he opened the door. "Ta, Thanks."

The server placed them at a table for two next to a booth occupied by four young women dressed in a manner that reminded Remus of Nymphadora when they’d first met. They had a casual, yet edgy style. A bit punk. One of the girls had pink streaks in her blonde hair.

During breakfast, he couldn't help but compare the young women to the one who sat across from him. Nymphadora wasn't much older than they were. Last year, she had talked as boisterously and laughed with as little restraint. Her spiky hair had rivalled the brightest colours in nature. Now her hair was mousey, her laughter rare, and her captivating heart-shaped face thin from worry.

Guilt dug in with razor-sharp claws. He reached for Nymphadora's hand.

"Aw, look at the oldies. Still in love," said one of the young women.

"Shut up, they'll hear you," said another.

"Nah, their hearing's probably gone. Anyway, who cares? We're leaving."

Nymphadora squeezed his fingers and said once the girls filed past, "Remember when you thought everyone over twenty was ancient? Then that birthday came and you realised you weren't old, everyone who was younger was just young?"

"I've always been an old man," Remus said. "I had my first grey hair when I was sixteen."

"That's heredity, or your condition interfering with the production of melanin. It has nothing to do with age. You're not old." She leaned across the table to whisper, "Could an old werewolf take the kind of shower you did and then go out to breakfast instead of taking a nap?"

"No." And Remus would not have been able to do it, either, before she bonded to the wolf. Nymphadora seemed to have forgotten how weak he'd once been after transformations.

His memory wasn't so selective.

Still hoping to avoid confessing he slept in the library, Remus opted for a walk instead of a "nap" after they finished the meal. He asked if she would like to visit any friends or relatives.

"No. I sent Christmas cards telling everyone about my boring assignment in Scotland. I don't want to have to explain why I'm here and not there." She slid her arm around his waist. "Besides, I want you all to myself."

He felt the same way.

Remus intended to store up as many memories as possible until he had to let her go. So many times, he'd taken for granted the touch of her hand, the sparkle that lit her eyes when she noticed something of interest or amusement.

When they reached the Floo Station, the shine in her eyes came from tears. She twined her arms around his neck and whispered, "I feel like crying, and I feel like dragging you into the family loo and re-enacting what we did earlier. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect." He kissed her tenderly when instinct made him want to kiss her with a passion inappropriate for a public display of affection.

"I'm glad your lips feel the same even though they look different," Nymphadora said. "Will you come see me?"

"Soon."

Remus walked home with a heart that grew heavier as he crouched beside the library fireplace and cast a spell. Green flames danced in the grate.

Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire, his expression mildly inquiring.

"I've catalogued the library," Remus said. "I need a new mission."

"Yes, I see. What did you have in mind?"

That was the tricky part. He didn't have it worked out yet. "I'm finalising details," he said. "May I visit tomorrow?"

"Ten o'clock. My office. No Appearance Charms necessary."

"Thank you, sir, and my apologies," Remus said. "I forgot about that."

On impulse, he went to the nearest loo after saying goodbye and peered into the mirror. Short hair, hazel eyes, and pleasant, freckled features: the reflection staring back was gut-twistingly familiar.

He looked like Jerry Connelly.

 

 

Tonks hoped Remus would contact her through his communication mirror. Instead, he sent a note by owl. It arrived with the morning post.

_Nymphadora,_

_I have a meeting with Dumbledore at ten today. I'll come to your room afterwards._

_Love,_

_Remus_

She gulped down coffee and thrust the note into a cloak pocket, determined to finish the morning patrol in record time. Happily, her old Comet sped with extra zip as she flew the perimeter of the forest. Rays of sunlight penetrated gloomy clouds and warmed the pine-scented air, further brightening her mood. Tonks let her imagination run wild. Remus had finished cataloguing the library and was going to announce he wanted to help patrol the school. Merlin knew she'd griped the number of Aurors in the village gave only a show of protection often enough. Remus must have realised she was hinting that he go to Dumbledore and volunteer.

Whether she lived with him up at the castle or they found a cottage to let didn't matter. They would be together.

Dawlish raised a brow when she handed him her report with a cheery, "Good morning, sir!"

The barman narrowed his eyes when she asked for two bottles of his finest Butterbeer.

"I'm really thirsty today," Tonks said.

"Hmmm."

She grinned all the way upstairs. Thought she planned to entertain in her room, did he? How right the suspicious old git was.

The smile slid off her face when confronted by the unmade bed and shoes and clothing strewn across the floor. What a mess! She sniffed. The place needed a Fresh Air Charm and a scented candle. Tonks got to work. Her householdy spells were far better than they used to be. Clean socks rolled up with a flick of her wand, bed linens righted in a swish. Her boots still dragged across the floor, though, and the trunk lid closed with a bang instead of a click.

Tonks was sprawled in a chair about to twist the cap off a Butterbeer when Remus appeared in the centre of the room. She jumped up to hug him and plant an enthusiastic kiss on his lips. "You're just in time to drink to my rare tidiness," she said. "Here. Have this one. Watch for the fizz, I might have shaken it."

"That's all right. I'm not thirsty."

His tone set off warning bells in the back of her mind. Tonks ignored them and set the bottle on the trunk. She slid her arms around his waist. "I'm so happy you're here."

"I can't stay long."

The way he looked at her, touched her hair and cheek brought tears to her eyes. Tonks blinked them away. She was  _not_ going to assume the worst. "You told Dumbledore the library's catalogued? You have to pack your things?"

"Yes."

Why didn't he sound glad? Fear almost kept her from asking, "And you're moving to Hogsmeade?"

"No. I have a new mission."

She heard what he said, but couldn't accept it. "What about Harry and all the other children? They need you to help protect them. I need you."  _To love me, sleep beside me. Haven't we been separated long enough?_

Remus seemed to look everywhere but in her eyes. "Across Britain there are werewolves being raised like Will," he said, "If I show parents the value of teaching their children wandless magic, think of the difference it would make in so many lives."

Tonks took a deep breath. "You're right . . . and I want to help."

She felt his body still like a wary animal.

"I'll take a leave of absence," she said, using her knuckles to rub away the wetness blurring her vision. "Dawlish will send for Jerry and I'll go with you."

"Nymphadora—"

"I'm very persuasive," she said, "and even if I'm only there to show that werewolves can have normal lives, a partner—"

"No."

"Yes!"

"I've taken too much from you already," Remus said firmly. "I won't take your career. This is something I have to do alone."

Nothing would change his mind.

Tonks buried her head against Remus's chest so he wouldn't see her cry. "Will you bring your mirror?"

"In case of emergencies."

She had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing. Why was he still trying to put emotional distance between them? It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat. "Will you write me sometime?"

"If I have the chance." His lips grazed her brow. "I'd better go."

It was as if his resignation flipped a switch in her brain. Tonks pushed out of the circle of his arms. "You do that," she said. "Go. Don't use your mirror. Don't write me. I'll still think about you every day."

"Nymphadora—"

"You can't stop me." She lifted her chin, not bothering to wipe the moisture streaking her face. "You know what else? I'm going to dream about you every night."

Remus looked stunned. His lips barely moved as he said, "We had an agreement."

"No. I took the sleeping potions for  _you_. Now I won't, for us. And if you don't want Wolfie with me beneath the stars, let your human spirit out to play."

For an instant, Remus's eyes blazed hotter than any wolf's. Then he Disapparated.

 

Tonks strode to the trunk and picked up the unwanted bottle. Viciously, she twisted the cap. Foam shot into the air and dripped over her fingers. She took a sip. So, he was angry. At least Remus would be thinking about her. She retrieved the second bottle and left the room. Annis Black liked Butterbeer, and Tonks planned to borrow every crystal and stone possible to intensify dreaming and astral travel.

Annis gave her enough stones to start a rock collection, yet hard as she tried, Tonks didn't dream about Remus. Days passed and February's icy rain melted January snow, but the only contact she had with her love was on the astral plane, when her spirit hovered above his body.

He never responded to her presence. Whatever Remus took to sleep drugged his human spirit as well. Only Wolfie fought his way out to meet her.

She kept busy, volunteering to take extra duty until Dawlish began to smile a little whenever he saw her. Nights she didn't have patrol were spent trying to dream. Whenever she couldn't sleep, Tonks relaxed her body and mind in order to shift consciousness and be with Remus on the astral plane. Every night, it became harder to drift into natural sleep.

 

By Valentine's Day, the growing shadows beneath her eyes darkened to the point where even Dawlish noticed.

"Get some sleep before it affects your work performance," he said, coming up to the bar where she poured herself a jumbo cup of coffee.

She saw the mug in his hand and held up the carafe in a silent offer.

He put his mug on the bar. "I'm taking you off the roster for today. Go buy a potion or something."

"That isn't—yes, sir," she said, bending beneath his steely gaze.

"And eat breakfast first." He nodded curtly and left.

From a nearby table, Savage called out, "You do look like crap, Tonks."

"Ta, thanks," she muttered, reluctantly picking a chocolate chip muffin out of a spell-warmed basket to take to her room. She wasn't hungry. The smell of food made her nauseous.

She froze. When was the last time she'd taken a contraceptive potion? Could she be pregnant? Tonks put the muffin back.

"Dawlish told you to eat," Savage said.

She was already halfway to the door. "Later."

The apothecary shop wouldn't open for another hour. Tonks went to the castle.

Madam Pomfrey was changing bed linens when Tonks rushed in. She lowered her wand, causing a pillow and its case to drop from the air to land next to each other on a matching white coverlet. "What's wrong?" The colour drained out of the woman's rosy face. "Is it Severus _?"_

"No, he's fine."  _Probably._  "It's me," she said, double-checking to make sure the infirmary was empty of patients. "I need a pregnancy test."

"P—pregnancy?" Pomfrey asked in a high, thin voice.

The woman thought the daddy was Snape. "Yeah, you keep a few in the cupboard for, uh, staff, right?" Tonks was not about to mention students. There had to be a couple of female teachers who were occasionally sexually active and potentially fertile. She couldn't name any offhand, but didn't care if the bottle had a layer of dust on it. As long as it hadn't expired, she'd use it.

"I—I may have something." Pomfrey moved like a sleepwalker, returning with a blue flagon. "Don't ask me the whys and wherefores, but after I place a drop of blood into the solution, vapours arise in a way that indicates expectancy." Briskly, she used a lancet spell on Tonks's finger. She said, "If the shape of a rabbit forms and hops around, there is no pregnancy, but if the rabbit manifests, and then dissipates. . .. "

Tonks held her breath while vapours rose and twisted into form. As the rabbit leapt into the air, the room spun so dizzyingly she closed her eyes.

When she came to her senses, Tonks was lying on a bed with a cool flannel draped across her brow. She pushed it off and sat up, immediately recognising the silver wall sconces and the man who came to the doorway when she groaned. "What happened?" she asked. "Why am I here instead of the hospital wing?"

Snape arched a brow the exact way he had in class whenever the answer was obvious. "You fainted. Poppy came to me when you responded to her effort to restore consciousness with  _audible distress._ "

"I cried?" She didn't remember that.

"Poppy was concerned students might overhear and gossip. She administered a Draught of Peace, yet you continued to babble."

"What did I say?"

"You wanted a baby."

The dispassionate words acted like a Legilimency spell.

_She curled up on the mattress, hugging her_   _arms tight to her body, mourning the loss of hope._   _"I wanted our baby," she whispered. "I wanted our baby."_

Once again, she'd given the wrong impression. "Aw, hell, I'm sorry."

"You have slept fourteen hours," Snape said. "I will go to the kitchen and procure a meal." He swooped out of the room before she could tell him she wasn't hungry.

Tonks rose on unsteady legs and gingerly made her way to the toilet. She washed her hands and face, relieved that there was no mirror to show her how awful she looked.

The table was set for one when she entered the outer chamber. She drew in the aroma of leeks and other vegetables, not surprised to hear her stomach gurgle. House-elves made the best Scotch broth. "Thank you," she said, taking a seat.

Snape ignored thanks in the same manner as apologies. "Poppy assured me she told no one you were . . . indisposed."

"Nice of her," Tonks said between spoonfuls. Keeping quiet was self-serving too.

When she was finished, Snape handed her an envelope. "An owl delivered it shortly after I transferred you to my quarters."

Could it be a valentine from Remus? Her heart skipped a beat. "Thank you." She stood. "I mean for everything . . .  _every single thing . . ._ you've done for me." Her throat got tight. "I can't tell you how much—"

"Do not try."

Was that a warning? Get emotional and I hex? "OK. Bye."

"Good night."

 

She hurried back to her room above the Hog's Head, trembling with eagerness to open her card. Tonks made a little ceremony of it, lighting candles and taking off her boots to sit cross-legged on her bed. Inside the white envelope, she found a handmade card cut out of red paper in the shape of a heart. The front had Happy Valentine's Day written in a child's handwriting. Inside was a message from Remus.

_My new friend Lucy wanted to help send you a card. It's her artwork on the back._

_Love,_

_Remus_

Tonks turned the card over to examine a drawing of two stick figures holding hands, one with brown robes and the other with long pink hair to match her triangular-shaped dress. Lucy had labelled the figures  _Remuz and Nym_.

A teardrop splashed onto the card. Tonks blotted it on her shirt and blew to dry the paper. What a sweet little girl. She could envision Remus smiling as he praised the artist. He had a gift for teaching and encouraging children.

All at once, the painful yearning she'd experienced in the hospital wing returned with a vengeance. Tonks wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked back and forth, trying to find comfort. He thought about her, talked about her. Remus had sent the card. He would get in touch again.

 

A week passed.

Tonks limited her astral travel and got enough sleep each night to keep Savage from commenting on her looks. On the night of the full moon, she clutched a piece of jade in her hand and kept one thought in mind as she drifted into sleep; she wanted to be with Remus _._

_The night wind blew fresh air into the cave. The she-wolf lifted her muzzle and breathed in the scent of growing things. Her mate chuffed. He, too, had detected no threat to their pack._

_A squeak brought her gaze to the newborn kept warm between his parents' bodies. The pup rooted against her side until he latched onto a nipple and began to suckle. The she-wolf leaned over to nuzzle her mate's fur and then bent to groom the pup, licking him until he was clean and dry._

_Her mate stayed by her side, leaving only to hunt and carry back food. The pup grew, and when the wind brought the scent of blooming things, he opened his eyes for the first time._

Tonks woke to the sound of Remus calling her name. She jack-knifed upright. Where was the communication mirror? She checked her cloak and found the mirror in a pocket. "Wotcher, love."

"Tell me I had a nightmare," he said hoarsely. "That it didn't really happen."

She shivered from an icy draft yet couldn't move.

His expression was pleading. "Tell me I was the only one who dreamt of a werepup."

Tiny. Helpless. Beautiful. "He's a wolf pup, not a werepup," Tonks said. "And it was an incredible experience, not a nightmare."

"You've gone too far."

Horizontal rain thrummed against the window. It echoed her pulse. "Me? It takes two to make a baby, even a dream one."

He flinched. "What are you saying? The wolves mated and I don't remember?"

" _No."_ She took a deep breath. "I'm saying I want to have your baby, and I think you want it as much as I do. That's why we shared that dream, why Wolfie was so tender with the cub—because  _you_ are a natural father."

Remus stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm a werewolf. A danger to every human."

"Not to me, and there are safeguards."

"I can't take the risk," he said. "I won't have children."

Her hands tightened around the mirror. "Then we'll just have one."

Remus exhaled heavily. "Nymphadora."

He said her name like a despairing prayer. Adrenaline ripped through her body. Whatever he planned to say, she didn't want to hear it. He wasn't thinking clearly. He needed time to get his head around it all. "I have duty," she said. "Morning patrol. I have to go. I love you, keep safe." She broke the magical connection.

Outside, the wind had subsided. Rain trickled down the windowpane like giants' tears. Tonks set her jaw. If Remus thought she was stubborn before _,_ that was nothing. She would wait, and hope, and dream, and in the end her love would realise they belonged together always.

 

Days became weeks, and still there was no word from Remus. Sometimes Tonks wondered if she'd be a crone by the time he gave in, too old to do anything in the shower except bathe. Several times, she abruptly returned to her body during astral travel when she'd tried to physically touch him. Once, she took out the mirror and started to call his name before having second thoughts.

Waiting was hell.

The March full moon was only a week away when Tonks swallowed her pride to ask Dumbledore if Remus had contacted him lately. She'd heard a rumour someone had been attacked by Greyback. Not knowing if Remus was safe tore at her peace of mind.

She arrived to find Dumbledore was away from the castle. Without thought, she walked toward the Room of Requirement. It was her place of solace. If she couldn't be with Remus, at least she could "visit" the flat they'd shared in London. Magic produced an exact replica, down to the bottle of Firecrab nail varnish on the coffee table.

Her plan changed when she found Harry Potter sprawled on the corridor floor. The flush on his cheeks and sharp inhale when he stood revealed he'd tripped over his feet and was embarrassed about it. She sympathised and didn't ask him the question he'd asked her. Tonks figured the boy was there for much the same reason she was.

They had a brief, awkward chat. He hadn't heard from anyone in the Order. Although logically she shouldn't have expected Remus to write, her eyes filled with tears. Tonks said she'd see Harry around and left.

On the night of the full moon, she dreamt of wolves.

_The pup was older, able to stand, walk, and growl. He sniffed the meat his father provided, watched her eat and gnawed a small piece. He romped at the mouth of the cave, pouncing on his parents' legs and tails._

_His teeth grew sharp. She growled when he nipped her. Was he ready to wean? The pup whimpered and continued nursing._

_Watching them, her mate gave a snort of amusement. He edged closer and nuzzled her face. She licked his mouth. Between them, the pup gradually went from suckling to sleep._

Tonks awoke with breasts that felt tender to the point of pain. A sign of ovulation. She reached for the mirror, hoping to see Remus's face. Two hours later, she accepted that he wasn't going to contact her yet.

The waiting continued. She stopped using astral travel and became a fixture in the Hog's Head, playing poker with regulars like the veiled "lady" Tonks called Auntie Mung. If she occasionally drank a few beers, she kept count and didn't drink too many. Work was the only thing going right in her life. Dawlish and the others included her as part of the team, and she wasn't going to screw that up.

On the night of the April full moon, Tonks dreamt that the pup had grown. His feet were adorably large and clumsy. His high-pitched howls were stronger. Play fighting was his favourite activity. It wasn't until she woke that Tonks realised what else had been different about the pup aside from the developmental changes. His fur had been turquoise blue.

She immediately swept a hand beneath the pillowcase. Remus must be upset.  _Be mad, but call me_.

Thirty minutes later, she put the mirror in the drawer of her bedside table. If Remus wanted to talk, he could send his Patronus. She wasn't going to carry around any extra baggage that day.

Her resolve didn't keep her from thinking about him constantly, and that night, the mirror was back in her cloak pocket.

 

As the buds of April became the blooms of May with blue skies and warmer temperatures, Tonks picked up two unsettling habits. She patted her pocket regularly to make sure she hadn't lost her mirror, and almost as often looked back over her shoulder to see if someone was following. She tried to stop the compulsive behaviour and couldn't. The mirror was her only link to Remus, and the watched feeling was impossible to shake. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

By the time the moon was almost full, Tonks didn't care anymore whether Dawlish would think she was paranoid. She marched into his office and asked if he had an extra Sneakoscope she could borrow.

He opened a desk drawer. "Constant Vigilance isn't the byword of Aurors the way it used to be," he said. "I'm pleased to see it is with you."

She should have done this weeks ago. "Yes, sir." The yellow disk inside the red sphere he gave her wasn't spinning and letting off a whistle. How nice. They were both trustworthy. "Thank you, sir."

"Wait." Dawlish reached into the drawer and pulled out a thin, flexible-looking piece of metal. "The Secrecy Sensor isn't as effective—true evil can be disguised by magic—but you may find it of use." His gaze held a trace of humour. "Argus Filch swears by his."

She could imagine the nasty git waving it at students. "Ta, thanks. I'll remember not to put it in my back pocket."

Dawlish smiled so briefly Tonks thought she might be hallucinating. "You do that."

The security devices never activated. She wasn't reassured; she still felt watched. On the day before the full moon, Tonks went to the castle to see Snape. He came to the door but didn't invite her in.

She spilled her problem in a gush of words.

"Did it never occur to you," he said, "that your . . . stalker . . . might not be adversarial?"

No, it hadn't. "Who could it be?"

"Who has reason to trail your steps?"

"No one, except—" She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. "Remus is on a mission."

"Missions end."

Yes, they did. "Have you seen him?" she whispered.

"No."

"If he was here, he'd come to see me."

"Or he already has."

Her hand went to the pocket holding the mirror.

Snape caught the gesture. "Contact Lupin. Ask him directly."

"I can't." It wasn't an emergency.

"Then find another way."

She walked back to the village in a daze. Remus in the village. Could it be true? Why would he follow her and not come to her room? She had to find out.

 

It had been weeks since Tonks used astral travel, but she had no trouble drifting into the altered state of consciousness. Her spirit glided through the roof of the Hog's Head and hovered on the night breeze. The stars bathed her in radiance. Buoyed with dreamy wonder, she turned her gaze from the heavens to Hogsmeade below. Remus was there. His spirit called to her. She floated down to a derelict house set apart from the rest of the village.

Remus slept on a pallet on the floor. Her emotions were only shadows of those felt while awake, and yet a pang ripped through her to see empty apothecary bottles lining the sill of the boarded-up window. The connection to the astral plane started to dissolve.

A ghostly wolf leapt out of Remus' body.

She accompanied him into the moonlight, and the next day slept until jolted awake by the sound of a fist banging against wood. "Tonks! You're late for patrol!" It was Savage. "Open up!"

Tonks dragged herself out of bed and cracked open the door. "Check the bloody roster. I'm scheduled for the afternoon."

"It  _is_ the afternoon."

She covered a yawn. "Go prank Dawlish."

"It's two o'clock. Don't believe me, check your watch." When she lifted her bare wrist, he said, "Check mine." His brows knit together when she gaped in disbelief. "Hey, if you're sick, I'll take your patrol."

"I don't know what I am, or how I feel, but it wouldn't be fair—"

"Bullshit. You've taken extra duty and never complained. I can do this for you. Go back to bed."

Mr. look-out-for-number-one was offering to do her a favour. She said, "I must really look like shit."

"Not that bad." Savage grinned. "I'd still go there."

Her lips twitched. "Flattering as that  _isn't,_ I appreciate the offer—to take my patrol. I'll be downstairs in a few minutes."

"I can make you some coffee."

His eager tone reminded her uncomfortably of Jerry. "No, thanks. I'll live." She'd grab a cappuccino chocolate bar out of her trunk and eat as she dressed.

It wasn't until she strolled through the village that the implication of Remus living in the Shrieking Shack truly sank in. Her stomach churned. He was keeping her at a distance, trying to weaken the bond between them.

She refused to let that happen.

 

Tonks didn't feel unseen eyes watching her that day. She figured Remus was holed up in the shack, counting down the hours until the full moon. She was too.

Dawlish and the others readily believed she was turning in early due to her "illness." Instead, Tonks Apparated to the Shrieking Shack and entered through the Marauders' secret entrance behind a clump of shrub roses. The  _Muffliato_  spell Remus had cast made the squeaks of floorboards the only noises heard. She almost believed she'd imagined floating through the walls and seeing her love. Almost.

The pounding of Tonks's heart told her what she would find in the first-floor bedroom. She walked in and saw the wolf, but not until her fingers touched his fur did the moment become real.

_The pup was weaned and eager to hunt. His feet were still large for his body; the tips of his ears flopped instead of standing alert. It would be many moons before he was ready to leave the pack._

_The she-wolf was content to follow her mate and pup from the cave to the forest. Excited by every rustle and new scent, the pup whipped his head from side to side. Several times, he rambled off the path to investigate and returned, tail wagging, when the Alpha called him with a short bark._

_After the sunlight began to fade, the Alpha led his pack to a familiar grassy clearing. The she-wolf looked at her mate. Why had he brought them there?_

_The pup, intrigued by winged creatures that fluttered among scented growing things in the centre of the clearing, darted forward. Instinct made the she-wolf run after him. The two instantly changed form._

_Tonks sat on flower-strewn grass watching a toddler with silky brown hair ending in curls reach toward a butterfly. Her heart ached with an equal measure of joy and sorrow. "Teddy," she said, tasting salt._

_"Mum!" he cried, dimpled fingers grasping air. "Up!" He wanted her to lift him to catch the butterfly that flitted out of reach._

_"No, baby, you'd hurt its wings."_

_A low growl brought her gaze to the wolf standing on the other side of the fairy ring. "This is who we are," Tonks said through tears. "We haven't really changed." She held out her arms. "Come to us, we love you."_

_The wolf took a step forward, and then another, until he was in the circle. Tonks hugged his neck, laughing and crying._

_"Doggie!" said Teddy, who now stood next to her._

_She took his hand and showed him how to pat the fur. "He's not a doggie, precious. He's a wolf."_

_"Woof!" Teddy laughed, and his hair turned blue._

 

Tonks awoke with tears clogging her nose and throat. She didn't want to think about what crying had done to her skin. Gods, what she'd give to morph. She sat up and looked at Remus. His face was pale and hollow-cheeked.

"These fantasies," he said, "They've crossed the line."

"What line? There aren't any boundaries in dreams."

His lips turned downward. "You believe a werewolf isn't a monster. You dream he'd accept you and our child when he would kill you and any other human foolish enough to trust him."

"No, we're his pack. He's you _,_ he understands." Why did Remus continually deny it?

He stood and helped her to her feet. "It's time to face reality," he said heavily. "We can never be more than lovers."

"Yes, we can."

He put his hands gently on her shoulders. "Nymphadora, stop. We can never be a family." Remus's face twisted as though he were fighting not to cry. "There will never be a Teddy Lupin."

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_ She edged away from his rigid stare. "You're wrong. You don't want to believe it because you don't believe in yourself, much less us or the future." The Full Body Bind didn't affect vision or hearing. He could hear what she needed to say. "I love you. I'm going to make you happy, and I'm going to have your baby one day." Her hands clenched into fists. "If you can't accept that, you're the one who's out of touch with reality."

Tonks slipped between his outstretched arms to give Remus a hard, swift kiss. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find me." She backed out of the room, countered the spell, and ran.

Remus didn't chase after her.

But he couldn't stay away.

In the days that followed, every time she patrolled the village Tonks would shiver as though an unseen finger traced her spine. Remus always loved to kiss his way down her back—and across every other part of her body. The feeling was both oddly sexy and comforting.

She made a point of never looking over her shoulder or giving any indication that she was aware of a watchful presence. She didn't want him to shy away. As the number of days multiplied, however, Tonks decided on a new tactic. She gave Remus something to look at.

Halter tops. Figure hugging t-shirts. Low-rise denims. Dawlish appeared sceptical when she asked to ditch the Auror robes to blend in with the villagers like a plain-clothes M.L.E. agent, but he gave his permission.

Savage, eyeing one of her crop tops, said, "You look like a model."

She bit her tongue to keep from asking, "What's that mean? Anorexic?" He'd meant it as a compliment. She only hoped Remus liked what he saw too.

 

Tonks wore her robes when she patrolled the castle, and put them on to attend the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. She wasn't on duty. Looking official got her into the Gryffindor changing room before the match.

Ginny gave her a huge grin and a squeezing hug. "Tonks! I meant to owl so many times. I'm the worst pen friend."

"You'll have to share the title with me," Tonks said. "We can catch up some other time, but I came by to let you know I'll be rooting for you to score a record-breaking number of goals and win the Championship."

Ginny's brown eyes widened. "I'm Seeker today. Didn't somebody tell you? Snape gave Harry Saturday detention for the rest of the year!"

"That's not fair," Tonks said.

"No, it isn't. Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgiveable Curse. Harry only defended himself." Ginny's low tone hardened. "I'm going to catch the Snitch for him and nobody's going to stop me."

"That's the spirit." It was all Tonks could do not to betray her shock. She was a member of the Order—an Auror. Why hadn't she been informed?

Regretfully, she couldn't barge into the staff box and insist on an answer from Dumbledore. She would have to wait.

Never had a Quidditch match seemed to last so long. She glared at her timepiece. _Did Savage jinx it to go half as fast?_ When Ginny caught the Snitch, Tonks cheered with extra enthusiasm. The match was over!

Pulled along with the unruly crowd swarming to the Great Hall, Tonks craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of Dumbledore. He was nowhere in sight. In the entry, her eyes strayed toward the corridor leading to the dungeons. She could question someone else. Someone who would tell her exactly what Harry did to deserve harsh punishment.

"Lupin's been carrying tales, has he?" Snape asked before she did more than open her mouth. He looked into her eyes and undoubtedly saw her conversation with Ginny. Curtly, he gestured for her to enter his quarters.

"I want to know why I wasn't informed that Malfoy attempted an Unforgiveable Curse," she said. Two chairs flanked the centre table, but Tonks remained standing. "And I want to know why Harry got detention for stopping it. Every wizard has the right to defend himself."

"Does Potter have the right to murder?" he asked grimly. "His spell nearly cut Draco Malfoy in two. If I had not intervened, Malfoy would be dead, and Potter would be in Azkaban for the rest of his life." He sneered. "Detention is a slap on the wrist. He deserved expulsion."

"But if Harry's life was in danger—"

"—from a Cruciatus Curse?" A thin black eyebrow lifted at her reaction. "Miss Weasley left out that pertinent detail."

"Yes, she did." Tonks didn't want to think of Harry as someone who would use magic to kill. It had to have been accidental. She said, "Draco—he's OK?" The boy was a spoiled, malicious git, but he was still her cousin.

"He will bear a permanent scar."

Her gaze dropped to the faint silvery marks on her left wrist. Everyone lived with reminders of their mistakes. "Why wasn't I told?" she asked.

"Dumbledore thought it best."

"And he took for granted that everyone would follow his directions." Anger churned like acid in Tonks's gut. "I can't be trusted to do what he wants, so I'm out of the loop?" She laughed shortly. "If that's the way he feels I'm surprised I even rate guard duty."

"Your dedication has never been questioned."

Just her judgment. "Right. See you."

 

The next day, a letter came in the owl post.

**Dear Tonks,**

**I finally have something to tell you that's worth writing about. Harry and I are going together!**

Ginny's letter was short and bubbly. Tonks sent back a note that she was happy for her friend and heard female students who participated in snogging sessions with boyfriends before revising attained higher marks on wizarding exams.

Thrilled as she was for Ginny, Tonks couldn't help but be jealous. Once upon a time, she'd been equally giddy about Remus. His kisses had melted her insides and curled her toes. He'd even curled her hair a few times when she'd morphed in knee-jerk reaction.

It hurt to remember the past. Each day she hoped Remus would give in to the need to talk to her, touch her. When he didn't, she was left to ride out waves of sadness and anger. Something had to change.

 

On the morning of the May full moon, she went by Owl Post Office and sent a note to Auntie Mung. That afternoon, she stopped in at the apothecary and bought a potion. In the Hog's Head later, she kissed Mung's stubbly cheek through the ever-present veil and took a seat across from a warlock whose bushy eyebrows put the grizzled barman's to shame.

"Sure you can handle all-night poker, little girl?" the warlock asked.

Another player sniggered. "Yeh'll be staying up past yer bedtime."

The Macbeth potion Tonks had taken with food  _and_ milk to ensure she wouldn't have an upset stomach was guaranteed to "murder sleep" for twelve hours. She smiled and ordered a beer.

Dawn found her thirty Galleons richer than she'd been the night before. Aside from the monetary winnings, she'd heard numerous tall tales, learned several risqué limericks, and a drinking song she'd never be able to sing in polite—or even semi-polite—company.

She stacked coins on the bar. "Thank you, kind sir, for your hospitality."

The barman, who apparently didn't mind losing sleep for paying customers, said, "You only had four beers."

"Really? I feel so mellow."

"You'll be crashing any minute if you took a potion."

"Oh. Then the rest of the gold is for my wake-up call. Half past one, please. I have afternoon patrol. Bang on the door, spin a Celestina Warbeck orb, whatever it takes."

"I'll play the bagpipes."

Was he taking the mickey? "Cool," she said, almost hoping he would.

He did, but not in the Muggle way. The bagpipes were enchanted. Tonks peered through the gap in the doorway at the floating bag whose music blasted her from the depths of sleep and thought the music sounded better when a player breathed into the blowpipe.

"Great song," She said, and meant it. The noise could have awakened the dead.

" _Scots Wha Hae_."

Tonks nodded as though she recognised the tune and dashed to the toilet.

 

She didn't feel any shivers down her back during her patrol. It was three days before the feeling of Remus watching returned. She changed her route, strolling away from the village to the Shrieking Shack. Her shoulder blades prickled. "Did you miss me?" she asked loudly.

"Yes," she heard. The voice sounded metres away.

She continued to focus on the shack. "How was the full moon without me?"

"The wolf didn't dream," Remus said directly behind her. "He fought the chains and howled."

"You were satisfied, then."

"No."

"Of course you were," she said. "You want him to suffer. It doesn't matter that Greyback is the one who bit you, the one who caused all the pain. It's the wolf you hate." Tonks didn't turn around. He wouldn't like the look on her face.

"Hate is a useless emotion." Now Remus's voice came from beside her. "I cannot hate an animal."

"Can you forgive him for existing?" she asked. "Can you let go of anger and resentment? It's not doing you any good. It's tearing you up inside—tearing us apart." Tonks dug her nails into her palms to hold onto composure. "You have to accept that he's part of you, or you'll never move on. Never heal. Never be whole." She pressed her hands against her stomach. "And neither will I."

"Don't say that. You're young."

"I'm old enough to know I'll never love any man but you for the rest of my life." Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "I'll say it a million times if I have to."

He exhaled raggedly. "And I'll tell you a million times I can't—"

"—you mean you  _won't."_ They'd always joked it was a good thing she was hardheaded so it wouldn't hurt when they occasionally differed in opinion and "butted heads." She pressed the heels of her palms to her temples. They'd been wrong.

"Nymphadora, are you all right?"

Remus had broken the Disillusionment Charm, yet to see him and not hold him was more painful than Tonks could stand. She Apparated to her room and cried until she had no more tears.

 

The days of June slid by in a sunny haze. She patrolled several times a day and went to bed earlier than she had before she started her first year at Hogwarts. The Morpheus Charm Tonks cast didn't always give her dreamless slumber, but it had less side-effects than a sleeping potion and wasn't habit forming.

If Remus still trailed her at times, he maintained a greater distance. She never felt his eyes on her.

Mid-month, when she was called up to the castle, Tonks went eagerly. The stars were so dazzling she could almost believe the night sky was an omen that light would shine all the more brightly in dark times.

She found a mixed group of Professors and Order members in the Entrance Hall. According to Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore would be leaving the school for a few hours and they—McGonagall, Flitwick and Slughorn along with Bill Weasley, Remus, and Tonks—should patrol the school "just in case."

After briskly asserting that there was safety in numbers, Professor McGonagall led the way down the main corridor. Remus fell into step with Professor Slughorn in the middle of the group. Tonks dropped back to walk with Bill. His face didn't appeal to her—he was a little too smoothly handsome—but she liked his dragon hide jacket. If she got the chance, she'd ask where he bought it.

"Lovely night for a stroll," she said, weaving an intricate pattern with her wand. If she approached any trace of Dark Magic, red sparks would crackle in the air.

Bill chuckled. "We're inside."

"Doesn't change the facts." She watched Remus tap his wand against the door of an unused classroom. It didn't glow. There was no one hidden within.

The group made a slow, methodical search. All the entrances and windows were protected by enchantments, the secret passages guarded. The security measures in place were formidable. No intruder could fly or Apparate onto the grounds or into the castle. The air of quietude was also reassuring. All the children were tucked away in their dorm rooms, the elves were wherever they hung out after hours.

They had almost finished patrolling the third floor when red sparks flared to life above Tonks's wand. Rapid footsteps echoed in the corridor. Three students burst into view. Ginny, Ron, and Neville stared at the adults aiming wands in their direction and then began talking all at the same time.

"There are Death Eaters in Hogwarts!"

"Malfoy let them in!"

"They used Instant Darkness Powder to get away!"

Tonks waved her wand. Sparks raced like a comet down an adjacent corridor. She called out, "They're headed for the Astronomy Tower!"

McGonagall put her hand on Flitwick's arm. "Go tell Severus what's happened. We need his help!"

Flitwick bolted for the stairway leading down to the Entrance Hall. The rest of the group took off running after the Death Eaters.

"How many are we up against?" Bill asked Ron.

"Dunno. We saw Malfoy, and then he threw the powder."

Ginny said, "I heard at least four people go by me.

"I—I counted seven," said Neville.

Remus clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Excellent. Now we know what we're up against."

"We’ll take them one by one," Bill said eagerly. His long legs outpaced everyone but Ron.

McGonagall sounded a little out of breath. "And then Severus and Filius will add to our numbers."

A new flash of red sparks shot like an arrow around a curve. "They're in the next corridor," Tonks said, her eyes on Remus.

"Be careful," he said, addressing everyone while holding her gaze. "Move around, don't give them an easy target, and fire spells constantly. Our aim is to stun or bind, but Death Eaters kill."

Ron said, "Don't worry, professor. We've been practicing."

Bill slung an arm around Ron's shoulder. "Then I'll give you a chance to show off." He jerked his head toward the bend in the corridor. "When I cast a Shield Charm, you hurl a second one. We'll cover the others in case we're heading into an ambush." He bared his teeth in a fierce, compelling smile. "Let's go."

The Death Eaters scattered when they saw their pursuers. The dim torch lighting gave them the appearance of wraiths disappearing into shadow.

"One by one!" Bill yelled, sprinting ahead.

Tonks froze in horror when the Death Eater Bill chased stepped into a muted pool of light. "Remus!" she screamed. "It's Greyback!"

A push by Ginny saved Tonks from a brawny Death Eater's Killing Curse. Her knees burned from striking the floor, but Tonks was used to ignoring pain earned by clumsiness. She straightened and returned fire. " _Petrificus Totalus!"_

The Death Eater evaded the body-bind and cast spells with a velocity that required full concentration to defend. Despite her training and experience, Tonks found it hard to do more than counter with an occasional Stunning Spell. She was too occupied dodging rapid-fire curses and jinxes that ricocheted off the walls like bolts of lightning.

The explosion of spells against stone didn't drown out Bill's anguished scream or Greyback's roar of triumph.

The Death Eater holding Tonks and Ginny at bay laughed his head off over the havoc he created, even when a curse brought down one of his own. "You should have followed orders, Gibbons!" He continued to fire off jinxes at a manic pace. No one could touch him. He blocked attacks with contemptuous ease.

Neville shouted, "Malfoy's gone up to the tower!"

Tonks dove to avoid a hex, hissing through her teeth at the sharp sting of her elbows scraping stone. Blood trickled down her arms. She heard Neville cry out, and then the big Death Eater's voice rose over the din.

"I'll hold our position. Follow the boy!"

He started deliberately aiming jinxes at the ceilings and walls to cause stones to shatter into deadly projectiles. Tonks cried, “ _Petrificus Totalus_ ,” and then caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Snape was running toward them. A surge of hope erased her fatigue and worry. If anybody could turn the tide against Death Eaters, it was Severus Snape. "Hurry!" she said, pointing to the staircase.

The remaining Death Eater distracted Tonks with a jinx that struck the wall next to her head. Her ears rang from the blast. She didn't see if anyone—Remus—followed to help Snape. She was too busy protecting herself against falling debris. Minutes later, the entire corridor shook from a hex that sent half the ceiling crashing to the floor.

Tonks covered her nose and mouth to keep from choking on the billowing dust. Like the others, she ran forward, only to suddenly halt. Snape and Malfoy had stepped out of the wreckage.

Her hand dropped limply to her side. What was going on? Death Eaters were clambering down the staircase, whooping and hollering.

The laughing Death Eater returned to his nasty tricks, firing off hexes. He aimed his wand at Malfoy's back. "Run!" Tonks cried, stepping into the path of the hex to cast a Shield Charm. Over the clamour of renewed fighting, she thought she heard Snape's voice, and then the big Death Eater howled in pain and ran, and Remus was holding her, telling her, "The battle's over. You're safe."

 

Remus drew away to join the people gathered around a body at the foot of the stairs. It was Bill. His face wasn't smoothly handsome anymore. Tonks watched as he was transported to the hospital wing. Numbly, she followed with the others.

Hermione and Luna joined the silent vigil around Bill's hospital bed. All eyes went to Harry when he entered with Ginny. He told them he was fine and asked about Bill. The relief on every face when Remus said Bill wouldn't be a true werewolf jarred Tonks out of her detached state. It wasn't the end of the world to be a werewolf!

When Ron said Dumbledore should know something to heal Bill's wounds, that he owed him, the expression on Ginny's face told Tonks what she was going to say, even before her lips formed the words.

Dumbledore was dead.

Tonks asked how he died, how it happened, but in her heart, she knew Snape had killed him. And she’d told him to run.

She tried to make sense of it, but couldn't. Dumbledore swore Snape was on their side. She'd never doubted it, except when Snape and Malfoy ran down the tower steps with exultant Death Eaters in their wake.

"We just let them pass," Tonks said in a hollow voice.  _I let them pass._

Molly, Arthur, and Fleur arrived. Molly wailed her anguish. Fleur gazed down at her fiancé in silence until she heard Molly say that Bill was  _going_ to be married, as though the wedding was off.

"It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!" Fleur cried.

Bitterness grew in Tonks until she let smouldering anger become a cleansing fire. She glared at Remus. "You see! She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

"It's different," he said tensely. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely—"

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" She grabbed his robes in her fists, wishing she could shake sense into him. "I've told you a million times. "

Remus averted his eyes. "And I've told  _you_ a million times that I am too old for you, too poor . . . too dangerous . . .."

Molly, Arthur—even McGonagall—gave their opinion on his "ridiculous line," but Tonks was the one who felt ridiculous for wearing her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see.

Hagrid lumbered in. Shaking with grief, he announced that he'd moved Dumbledore's body, Flitwick was recovering in his quarters, Sprout had sent students back to bed, and Slughorn had contacted the Ministry. McGonagall thanked him and asked to speak privately with Harry. After the three left, Tonks hugged Molly and Ginny and walked out. What could she say to the others: sorry for the meltdown?

Dawlish would expect her to report to him immediately and give her statement. He was going to have to wait.

 

The door to Snape's quarters opened at first touch. Tonks had half-expected a security ward to zap her. In the centre of the library room, the table stood by itself. Snape's chair was gone. She did a quick scan of the shelves. Books were missing. She strolled over to the drinks cabinet. Empty.

She checked the shower. Shampoo and conditioner flagons perched on the ledge with a bar of soap. In the bedroom, she headed straight for the wardrobe. Four robes where there used to be dozens. His student robes were among those removed. Tonks crouched down to peer beneath the robes.

"What are you doing?"

Remus stood in the doorway.

Tonks lost her balance and cursed when her knees hit the floor. "I was checking for shoes, and now I'm bleeding." She limped to the bathroom.

He followed.

She took off her robes and let them drop to the mosaic tiles depicting a sea snake before reaching for the button on her jeans. "I'm wearing my favourite red panties," she said. "Don't look or you might forget you're too old." She pulled her jeans down and winced when the blood-soaked denim stuck to her abraded skin.

"Your elbows," Remus said.

He broke her heart and worried about scrapes. She bent her forearms to give him a better view. "Matches the knees, just like the time my cousin took me roller skating."

"Which cousin? Rita?" he asked, taking a flannel off a shelf and wetting it in the marble sink. He knelt and dabbed at the blood on her right knee.

"Lora."

He rinsed out the cloth and attended to her other knee. "Why were you checking for shoes?"

"To confirm something."

Remus stood to rinse out the flannel again. "What?" he asked, gingerly daubing at the scrape on her left elbow.

She forced her eyes away from the intent, concerned expression on his face. "Everything Snape valued, his chair, favourite books, Firewhisky, and most of his posh wardrobe is gone, including his expensive shoes." She studied a flying snake carved on a wall tile. "He was ready to leave and yet prepared to stay—that's why there are robes but no shoes. He knew people might notice if he wore the same robes every day, but nobody would notice if he wore the same shoes."

"What does that have—"

"Listen. McGonagall said herself Snape didn't know Death Eaters were in the castle until Flitwick told him. It was Malfoy who let them in. He led the way to the tower,  _he_  was the one who was supposed to kill Dumbledore!" Tonks squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears. "I came here to prove I wasn't the biggest fool in the world to trust Snape. He  _was_ trying to help . . . just . . . not the way I thought."

"No."

The sorrow in Remus's voice cracked the defences she'd erected to hold back guilt and pain. "But I am a fool," she whispered. "I never learn from my mistakes. Sirius died because I didn't take out Bellatrix. Dumbledore died—" She couldn't finish. Sobs wracked her body.

Remus gathered her close. "You did your best. It's not your fault."

"It  _is_ , and I'll never forgive myself." She was choking on loss.

He hugged her tightly and then Tonks felt his hands, warm and gentle, cradle her face. "You have to," he said, "or it will blight your life the way it's blighted mine, pushing me away from everyone I've ever held dear." He exhaled shakily. "All my life I've feared change, run from it, until you."

She lifted her eyes to search his.

Remus said, "When you walked out, I couldn't let you go. My age, the wolf, the future. Nothing else matters except being with you." He swallowed hard. "If you can forgive me—"

"I did that the second I heard your voice." Her lips curved. "By necessity I'm brilliant at first-aid spells, remember? I didn't need the help."

A tinge of red stained Remus's cheekbones. "I wasn't thinking," he said. "I just wanted to take care of you."

"Because you love me?"

"Always." He kissed her with a tenderness that made her sigh, and then kissed her with a passion that tingled like magic. Tonks felt complete. She slid her arms around his neck, giving herself over to the kiss, smiling against Remus's mouth as she morphed her hair pink.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END—of my canon R/T chapter fics. There's no way I could write a Deathly Hallows story. I couldn’t kill them off. Other stories I've written in which their deaths were mentioned don't count because they weren't Remus and Tonks stories, contrariwise as that may seem. Anyway, death cannot stop true love, to quote a dread pirate named Westley. The most it can do is make a writer go AU. ;)
> 
> The restaurant Remus and Tonks had breakfast in was based on The Koffi Pot in Welling, Kent, where Mike Leigh shot a few scenes of the film All or Nothing starring Timothy Spall, aka the guy who plays Peter Pettigrew in the HP films. I started humming "It's a Small World" when I found the description of the "vintage caff," looked up the film out of curiosity, and discovered that bit of trivia. The dream Teddy is the same one from Moonlight and Shadow. Scots Wha Hae (Scots, What Have) was the unofficial national anthem for a long time, and has lyrics by Robert Burns in the form of a speech by Robert the Bruce before the Battle of Bannockburn/battle for independence in 1314. One particular stanza matched what many people (of little faith, heh) thought of Snape after the battle in HBP. (I'll quote the English lyrics.)
> 
> Who will be a traitor knave?  
> Who will fill a coward's grave?  
> Who's so base as be a slave?  
> Let him turn, and flee!
> 
> My version of the battle came from the different accounts in the book, especially what Tonks said during the hospital scene and how she said it. Tonks said, "we were in trouble, we were losing," in a low voice, and "And then Snape was there, and then he wasn't" about him running to the staircase. Ginny didn't see exactly what happened, she was ducking a jinx. Remus only saw Snape run through the barrier. The way Tonks "whispered" that Dumbledore swore Snape could be trusted, said she'd "love to know what Snape told [Dumbledore] to convince him," and then, "We just let them pass" in a hollow voice, all contributed to my belief that she put her trust in Snape unreservedly—felt she owed it to him for everything he'd done—and that she let him pass not just once, but twice.
> 
> I used quotes from ch 29 (The Phoenix Lament) because it's a pivotal scene, and to skip it or summarize it completely would cheat readers.  
>   
> Although I couldn’t write a DH chapter fic, I’ll be posting a DH one shot to explain why Tonks felt she had to join Remus at the final battle: _Baby Mine_.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> From owl behaviour to non-disco music you can hustle to, I had a lot of fun doing the research for this chapter and hope readers enjoyed having Tonks and Remus's povs together in one story. This follows the chapter fics Once in a Blue Moon, A Wolf in the Moonlight, Promise of a Spring Moon, Moonlight and Shadow, and From the Battered Journal of Remus J. Lupin, but can be read alone, although I'd love for anyone who hasn't read the other stories (and numerous one shots, lol) to find the time to do so. :D. For anyone wondering, yes, Nigel John Taylor is the 'real' name of a Duran Duran band member. I don't think he'd mind a character given the name he dropped. ;)


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